


Who Wants To Live Forever

by thegrimshapeofyoursmile



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Modern AU, Past Abuse, Past Anders/Hawke, Past Anders/Karl Thekla - Freeform, bipolar!Anders, isabela/merrill - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-01-11 16:41:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 29,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrimshapeofyoursmile/pseuds/thegrimshapeofyoursmile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke knew there was a reason he never introduced Anders and Fenris to each other. Then again, when Fenris is bleeding all over his car, he has no other choice. He just would have never expected the chain of events their first meeting creates. ///Fenders, Modern AU, enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fenris

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, uhmmm, I am VERY nervous to post this out of several reasons. Mostly it's because this fic features a bipolar Anders. Now I have tried to research this mental illness as well as possible, but since I have no personal experience with bipolar disorder, I can only hope I am doing at least a mediocre job of portraying it well. 
> 
> Also, this modern AU contains the existence of elves and dwarves, mostly because I wanted to keep Fenris' ears. (Yup. That's really mostly the only reason. I am a horrible person and I am sorry.)
> 
> ...And please take note that it usually is not that easy to run a practice under Anders' condition,but let's just say that Hawke pulled a few strings.
> 
> Now (hopefully) enjoy!

"This is completely unnecessary,“ Fenris said and touched the car window with his fingertips. It was raining outside, a heavy tiptap of splashes against the glass, and he watched and followed the droplets down, down, until they disappeared out of his sight. 

“You’re bleeding all over my goddamn car,” Hawke pointed out and sounded completely distressed at that fact. He drove like a mad man, cutting curves where he should not and obviously thinking that red traffic lights were nothing more than a darker shade of yellow. “I can see your fucking bone.”

“’Tis but a scratch.”

“Funny, quoting Monty Pythons on me without having ever seen’em. It’s not a scratch, it’s fucking disgusting and ruins my car, so you’ll go and let yourself get treated by Anders or so help me God I will make you. Don’t growl at me now.”

Fenris carefully shut his mouth and looked out of the window again. The part of the city they were currently driving through got poorer and poorer by the second. He could almost watch the decay and, fingertips tapping against his lips, he wondered. He could feel Hawke glancing at him every now and then and almost smiled. Maybe it was the dizziness of the blood loss. For a while, he concentrated on the sensation of blood seeping through his clothes, staining the hand he pressed against the gash red. “Are you sure that he is as good as you claim? This is-“

“I know what it looks like,” Hawke interrupted him, eyes trained carefully on the road this time. “He helps where it’s needed the most. He’s, ah, he’s actually a very good doctor, even though he’s not allowed to practice in a hospital anymore, has published several important papers and is-----well, he’s actually quite brilliant in his manic phases, if single-focused.”

“A dangerous lunatic.”

“Don’t,” Hawke snapped hard enough that Fenris drew his gaze back from the window towards him in surprise. Hawke’s brown eyes met his for a moment and Fenris noticed the grim set of his mouth before Hawke looked forward again. He was slowly getting tired, felt the ache for sleep deep in his bones, body bleeding and bruised. “You are the last to judge. Do you think what you’re doing is sane? Jesus, Fenris, it’s fucking three o’clock in the morning and you’re bleeding out as we speak, ruining my car with your body fluids. It’s not even the fun ones.”

At some point, Fenris blended him out and closed his eyes, even though he knew it was dangerous. The relief of darkness behind his eyelids was immediate and great enough that he did not notice anything, anything at all for a long while.

&&&

When he woke up again, he found himself eye to eye with a cat.

It was a big tabby, well-fed with shiny fur and a malicious glint in its big green eyes. Fenris drowsily watched its tail flicking lazily from one side to the other and finally growled at it, but the only reaction he got was that the creature started to lick its paw in complete and utter disregard while continuing to sit beside his shoulder. 

“Now, now, Ser Pounce-a-lot, we do not harass our patients,” A soft, rich voice said and Fenris watched the cat being lifted up, without losing its disinterested stare. Drugs, he realized; somebody had to have drugged him, else he wouldn’t have felt so sluggish. The thought made goosebumps crawl over his arms and he pushed himself up, ignoring the dizziness, ignoring the almost instant tearing of flesh-

“Calm, calm now, you fucking idiot,” The same soft voice said and a strong, big hand pushed him back onto the bed he currently was laying on. Eventually, Fenris had to admit that struggling brought nothing; whatever painkillers he had been given, they worked well. “Jesus, now you tore it open again.”

“Fuck off,” Fenris spat, turning his head to catch a somewhat fuzzy image of a tall, almost too slim man with heavy black shadows underneath his amber eyes, golden stubble and chin-long, strawberry blonde hair that was tied back to reveal his face. He was dressed in a white coat, stethoscope dangling from his neck, and it was so cliché that Fenris almost laughed. 

“Now, now,” The man who had to be that blasted Anders Thekla hummed and his touches were light, almost feathery, soothing. Fenris felt his eyelids dropping all by themselves no matter how much he tried to fight it. “You’re safe here, no reason to be angry at me like a cat from the street. Sleep now, sleep, I’ll put you together again in the meantime. You shouldn’t even have woken up at the first place, but you’re a tough one, it seems-“

Fenris listened to the doctor’s soft-voiced ramblings and, with the soothing, comforting thoughts about strangling that human until he choked blue, he slipped away into darkness again.

&&&

“Asshole,” Hawke told him when he woke up the next time. This time, he felt more awake and clearer in the head; obviously, the medications he had been put under were not that heavy than the first ones. When he groaned and lifted a hand to slowly wriggle his fingers, Hawke leaned forward as if considering whether to slap him or hug him. When he settled for the latter, Fenris bristled and thought that he would have much more preferred the first option. “You fucking, stupid---how dare you just losing consciousness without a single word like that---I was worried _sick_ , you utter-“

“Stop hugging a guy whose bowels were almost hanging out thirty-two hours ago,” Anders said and suddenly, Fenris stared into the same face he only remembered very fuzzily. “How are you feeling today? I’m Anders, by the way.” 

“Congratulations,” Fenris rasped and was rewarded with pursed lips. “I’m fine, now go away.”

“He’s a prickly one,” Hawke told Anders.

“I would have never guessed,” Anders replied and one corner of his mouth quirked upwards. Arrogant. Then again, he was a physician; they were all the same, and this one was insane as well. Fenris bit the insides of his cheeks and tried to stifle the upcoming feeling of being trapped.

“Let me go,” He rasped, gritting his teeth when Hawke started to shake his head.

“You brought this upon yourself, you asshole,” He said and stared him down fiercely. “Calm your tits, this is no hospital and you can be fucking grateful that Anders takes you in, he doesn’t have so much beds to give away for such a long time.”

“Any friend of Hawke is my friend as well,” Anders said and smiled. There were tiny wrinkles around his eyes. Fenris hated them with a burning passion.

“I am not your friend, human,” He growled, ignoring Hawke slapping his palm against his face in annoyance. Anders’ did not waver, merely raised his brows.

“Fine, elf,” He responded and Fenris wanted to claw his amber eyes out of their sockets for the almost haughty, certainly challenging way he pronounced the word ‘elf’. “But you are going to stay here until you can at least sit up without opening these fucking wounds. I am not shying back from using Hawke for threatening you.” Fenris felt utterly betrayed when he saw Hawke nod in agreement and decided not to help Hawke with his more dubious business next time he asked him. “Fine, roll your eyes as much as you want, you are bound to this bed until you’re better. Rules are simple: Don’t break anything and be nice to the cats.”

Fenris frowned in utter confusion and watched the medic leave before he looked at Hawke. “No."

"Yes," Hawke said with determination, "It's not that bad, you'll see. He's bipolar, not a psychopath. You'll be fine."

Somehow, Fenris highly doubted that.


	2. Hawke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very, very happy and surprised about all the love the first chapter got so far. Thank you all so much!!! I hope I won't disappoint anyone with the newest chapter >//

Fenris was grumpy and ungrateful like the bastard he was when Hawke finally got up and left him with the promise of coming back again the next day. With a sigh, he stretched his limbs and walked out of the small room holding six simple beds and a shelf stretching over one wall into the corridor. With hum, he walked along it, opening a door and grinning at his sister. “Hey, Beth.”

Bethany looked up from the calendar she had frowned at, and flushed with joy at seeing him. She got up quickly enough to fall right into his bear hug. “Garrett!” 

He could feel her smile against his chest and could not help but smile in return. “Missed me?”

“I probably wouldn’t have if you called me more regularly,” She said in a mocking tone, finally releasing him and watching him closely. “You look good!”

“Better than Fenris for sure,” He said with a shrug and Bethany frowned.

“Yeah, Doc said he’s pretty beaten, I’ll probably see it myself later. What’s he done now?”

Hawke pursed his lips and tried not to let his anger get the better of him. “Hell if I know. He called me around two a.m. and when I came to collect him, I found him a mess in a dark alley. He didn’t tell anything about how that happened.”

“Hm, well, Doc was a little nervous when he came out of the station, I hope he’ll be nicer tomorrow,” Bethany said with a shrug, though her eyes glinted with something like anger. Hawke was grateful that it was his own sister who looked after Anders; she had developed a gentle protectiveness that was exactly what Anders needed to keep himself in check.

“How is he?” Asking Anders that question had proved to bring various degrees of invalid answers in the past. 

“Eh, he’s alright,” She answered cautiously, sitting down behind the reception again. Not only was she a sort of warden for Anders, she also helped him run his appointments in some of his more critical phases. “He’s currently pretty good as you probably saw. The meds just irritate him a little, make him a little more nervous than usual, but I just can’t ignore the signs and don’t give him anything.”

“He didn’t look overly, you know.” Hawke made a gesture with his hand that indicated the manic state Anders could sometimes be found in.

“You know how he is.” Bethany’s expression was entirely fond. “I try to keep him at the clinic, the station and the refugee as much as possible because he’s focused there.”

Hawke laughed and ran his fingers through her hair, laughing again when she ducked out of his reach with an undignified noise. “Thank you,” He said more seriously, “For looking after him. I know it’s not easy, but you-“

“Shush,” Bethany said with a wave of his hand. “I know it’s partially the illness, but he’s brilliant and I’m learning a lot from him, so it’s for my benefit as well. Also, he can be a funny bastard as well.” She grinned a little. Hawke narrowed his eyes and wondered whether he had to talk with Anders about not touching his little sister. It was nothing personal. It even had nothing to do with Anders’ condition. It was just him, Hawke, being a good older brother and keeping his baby sister from everyone who could hurt her. Even though she was probably safe in Anders’ hands; the physician was wild in his vengeance and Bethany was by now part of his circle, the people he trusted and cared for.

“Where is he now?” Hawke asked and watched her fingers fly over the keyboard of the computer as she answered a mail.

“I sent him into his living quartier,” Bethany answered with a shrug. “He didn’t sleep much yesterday and the day before and right now there’s not much to do at the clinic, so I asked him to try to sleep some. Given the fact that this happened about ten minutes ago, he’s probably gotten lost somewhere between the entrance and his bedroom, so it’s probably a good idea to visit him.”

“Cool, then I’ll go bully him into bed.”

“Now that sounded kinda wrong.”

“Been here, done that.” He grinned at Bethany’s outcry of “Too much information!”, patted her head for the last time and went out on the corridor again, this time choosing the last door way back. Knocking on it, he listened for a soft, “Come in” before he entered.

The rooms Anders called his apartment had no doors, making it seem as if there was more space than actually existing. At first, Hawke had found this strange until he had learned of Anders’ claustrophobe. The only rooms that were parted through a heavy curtain from living room and kitchen were bedroom and bathroom and even those curtains stayed opened whenever Anders was not staying at one of those two rooms. He found the physician kneeling in the middle of the living room right in the thick, soft carpet Hawke had given him as a present one and a half year ago when he moved into the apartment. In his arms he held all three of his cats and obviously tried to brush all of them simultaneously.

“Now, now, Queen Meowgana, if you don’t behave now you won’t look royal enough to gain Lady Give-You-Meows’ attention,” He muttered, holding the only white cat closer to his chest. “Jesus, what is it with you lot today that you all are so skittish?”

Hawke bemusedly watched him for a while before he stepped closer. Anders lifted his head and smiled at him, finally letting go of Queen Meowgana, who sprang onto the couch with a slight meow and settled beside Ser Pounce-a-lot, who was by now old enough to do nothing much besides eating and sleeping and occasionally harassing patients anymore. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Hawke replied with a grin and carefully settled down beside the two cats on the sofa. “Just wanted to say goodbye and make sure you’ll go catch some sleep. You look awful.”

“Well at least I can do something about that, you were born that way,” Anders replied with a grin and smiled when Hawke laughed. “I’m fine, Hawke, okay? No overworking in the next time, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Well, you never really know.” There was the slight nervousness in the movements of his hands and twitching lips Bethany had talked about. “I’m good, though, taking my meds like a good boy and looking after myself with Beth’s help. I’m certainly better off than that guy you brought me in. He’s not really called Fenris, is he?”

“No. It’s the name he prefers, though. I’m sure you can relate.”

Anders nodded and smiled, the crinkles around his eyes easing his tension a little. “Fair enough, I suppose. You can be happy that I deal with elves and their mistrust towards humans so much, else I’d have probably cried.”

“Oh sure you would have. I’m pretty sure you’d rather have yelled at him.”

“Probably,” Anders allowed and smiled again. He seemed indeed calm, relaxed; Hawke was secretly relieved and watched him get up from the floor with a groan. “I’m gonna go to sleep now. Sorry for throwing you out, I just don’t know how to be a good host anymore.”

“No offense taken, I should be going anyways, I’m meeting up with Isabela,” Hawke replied and got up, stretching his limbs while doing so. “You’re coming to the Hanged Man this weekend? Lose some money to her and Varric?”

“Sure,” Anders agreed easily, “If the clinic doesn’t keep me busy, I’ll come. Good night now.”

“Good night,” Hawke said, watched him retreat to his bedroom and close the curtain and listened to the soft rustle of Anders’ clothes for a while before he saw himself out. He did not mind too much.


	3. Anders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you so much to everyone who reads this and expresses interest in this! The Modern AU is currently one of my favorite projects, so support is doubly appreciated and I was very happy to see all that lovely response. <3  
> Enjoy!

He was slipping. 

Anders realized it after the second hour of lying in his bed without being able to sleep, unable to take his mind away from the new longtime-patient he hosted. Who was he? What did he do to get these wounds? Why was his hair white? 

With a groan, he finally sat up and rubbed his face, looking around at his bed that was spilling over from all the kitten plushies he had acquired over the years. With a slight smile, he reached for one of them and ran his fingertips along a furry ear. For a moment he wished he had followed the slim urge to ask Hawke to get into bed and cuddle with him he had felt two hours ago when he had talked to the man. But no- they had a one night stand once ages ago when he freshly moved in in these lodgings. He still did not know how far he could go with him. Also, he was not dependent. He tried not to be dependent. He tried not to give people the expression to be dependent, to need them, to be unable to function properly without having someone at his side. Maybe he was a little lonely; that had nothing to do with the illness.

A slight “meow” let him look up and he smiled when Queen Meowgana silently jumped on his bed. She was still very small, a black kitten with green eyes he had found and taken in only three weeks before, and she did not already possess the grace of grown felines. Instead, she was the sweetest of his cats and very affectionate, so it was no surprise that she immediately found her way over the blanket to his chest and pawed at his chest with retracted claws. Her paws were small and soft and he could feel himself relax. 

“Hey, baby,” He murmured and scooped her up; she was tiny enough that he could hold her in the cup of his hands easily. With a deep sigh, Anders laid back down and put her on his chest, gently stroking her shiny fur. It took a while for him to notice that he did not think of the elf anymore. Maybe he would manage to avoid a full-blown maniac phase.

&&&

It was only when he woke up again that he realized he had managed to fall asleep in the end. His dreams were never really pleasant, but this time it had been alright, just smudged images of dark shadows left in his memory. He felt grateful for it and took his time to just lay there for a moment in the mellow light to the bedroom lamp. Taking time, his therapist told him, was very good and necessary and he mostly agreed, even though it was hard sometimes. There were so many things to do yet, important things, that it sometimes felt very egoistic of him to take these minutes for himself. 

He did not want to slip.

Then again, Anders thought when he gently ushered Queen Meowgana out of bed before he got up himself and wandered over into the bathroom, there was nothing wrong with wanting to do things and solve problems. If he did not sleep much while being active, well, there were hundreds, thousands of people who did not sleep much as well without being medicated. Granted, they were allowed to drink coffee to stay awake, but passing out after writing twenty-thousand words in one night was an experience not many people made. In a way, his condition, his spirit, was a gift, bringing justice into the world and simultaneously letting him earn enough money to be able to fund this place for people less blessed by life to come to. 

He thought about the clinic while undressing and getting under the shower, duly noting the luxurious warmth of the water on his skin as he reached for the soap. The clinic as well as the refuge were his pride and joy, the place he loved the most. The people he cured and gave a dry, warm place to stay, food to eat, a shower to wash did not care about his spirit. They did not even particularly care that he was a human anymore, even though most of them were elves, as it was sadly common for the worst districts of most cities. Of course, it had taken time for them to trust him, but words passed quickly around here and by now, almost a year and a half after he had taken in his first more or less illegal patient, he knew almost everyone living nearby.   
Karl probably would have been proud of him.

It did not hurt to think of him anymore, Anders realized once again as he stepped out of the shower, toweling himself off with quick, practiced motions and slipping into jeans and t-shirt before pulling on his white coat on top of it. Still, the absence of Karl was bittersweet and Anders smiled briefly at his image in the mirror while he tied his hair back. Having sex with strangers was nice every once in a while, but even though he had a very, very healthy appetite in his active phases, he had not had sex for a long while now because he had always craved for more than that, not copulation but intimacy. 

Funny that this was the thing he feared most beside darkness and closed spaces as well. 

With a sigh, he left the bathroom and almost stumbled over Ser Pounce-a-lot, the oldest of his lot, who had apparently decided to take a nap right in front of the bathroom door. Shaking his head, Anders picked him up and gently let him down on the sofa before he slipped into comfortable socks and left his apartment. Locking the door had never been necessary; not once had somebody tried to invade his privacy. 

Wandering along the corridor, he stopped at the desk they mockingly called the reception to greet Bethany. It had to be around afternoon, he noted after a brief glance at the clock behind Hawke’s sister. Apparently he had slept longer than he believed. No time to lose then. He missed the look compared with a small frown Beth sent after him when he made his greeting very short and almost immediately moved over to the door that led to the refuge to slip inside.

The refuge was basically just a pretty huge room with several dozens of mattresses, a kitchen along one wall, a table big enough to have space for at least fifteen people and four separated showers and the door to the toilets along the one vis-a-vis. It was quite simple, but it was warm, it was safe, and it provided people in need with everything they missed. 

Right now, only a handful of people was staying at the refuge. Since the main purpose of the reception was to greet new guests so that Anders had an idea of how many persons were in the building and what they needed, Bethany had told him that there had arrived a mother with her child two hours ago. Anders found them quickly and moved over to the mattress they sat upon, approaching them with caution. The elven woman looked up at him with big, blue eyes and a hesitant, watery smile. The child she had with her, a boy barely older than two years, clutched tighter at her dress, but made a happy noise when he saw Anders.   
His mother had been hit, repeatedly, with a dull object right into her pretty face. Blue and green bloomed all over the left side of her face and her left eye was practically swollen shut. Anders gritted his teeth, breathed in deeply to contain his rage, and carefully knelt beside her, keeping a little distance to make her relax. “Hello, Mal’in.”

“Hello, Doc,” She answered, her smile wavering the longer he stared at her until she looked down. Her husband was a bastard and if he ever caught him, justice would be brought upon him. There were times when his readiness for righteous violence terrified him, but not at times like these, not at times where he looked into the face of a mother and watched her child not even blinking at the sight of her because it seemed normal to the boy to see her like that.

“Let me treat this, please,” He said gently, keeping his voice extra calm and quiet. Sometimes he found it difficult to choose the right tone for a person, but not today; today was a very, very good day.

He lost himself in her, lost himself in applying the salve on her bruised face, lost himself in checking her thoroughly for any other injuries, lost himself in talking to her, trying to save her and the boy, trying to make her and the boy comfortable and laugh that he did not even notice he was losing himself in his attention.


	4. Fenris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, at last with a new chapter! Thank you so much for all your fantastic feedback, I was sooo happy!
> 
> Enjoyy reading :)

Fenris had been in this room for a day and he had already made an escape plan.

Granted, it would not be easy. He could not remember how he had come here and therefore he had no idea what awaited him outside of this room. Still, his entire skin itched from being imprisoned in a bed that was not his, from being at the mercy of a physician, again, and he had sworn it would never happen again.

Fuck Hawke and his sense of responsibility. Fenris wanted to get out of here.

He steeled himself and threw back the blanket before he carefully placed his naked feet on the floor, ignoring the pain in his side. Fortunately, he did not wear one of the ugly clothes that were common for hospitals. Danarius had loved seeing them on him; easy access and humiliation all in one. Then again, this establishment was not exactly a hospital. 

With a deep breath, he put weight on his feet and stood up. As soon as he made his first step, however, his body betrayed him and caused him to stumble and fall. Nauseous and confused, he stared at the floor underneath his hands while pain soared through his limbs. He could not remember the last time he fell out of weakness. It was a thought that only fueled his determination to get out of here. Fenris would never allow weakness in the presence of a physician. 

However, no matter how hard he tried, he could not get up. His body had been through too much and simply refused. Fenris clenched his teeth and put all his energy into sitting up, exhaling slowly after he succeeded. After a long, lingering look at the door, he tried to come up with another plan. Before he could think of something, however, the door swung open, startling him into the space between two beds. When he realized how hunched over and defensive he held himself, Fenris started to hate himself a little more. 

To his surprise, he was not noticed at first. Instead, the physician and a dark-haired, human woman he did not know came in with a heavily bandaged, crying elven child they laid out on one of the free beds. Even though he glanced at the open door and instinctively knew that this was a chance that would probably not come around again, Fenris remained hidden at his place and watched, ready to snatch the child out of the two human’s grasp, even if it probably killed him.

“Now, now, Margaret, shh, everything is fine.” The physician’s terribly soothing, soft voice carried over the devastated struggling of the child, accompanied by soft cooing the woman at his side made that was not unalike an Elvish lullaby. Surprisingly, the child actually calmed down at that, sniffling loudly, but not sobbing anymore. Fenris watched the physician sitting down on the edge of the bed and softly stroking the girl’s head to calm her down some more.

“Do you still need me?” The woman asked softly, “The other patient is-“

“I know, Beth” The physician interrupted her with a silent laughter in his voice. “I’ll take care of it, just go and look after the reception, please.”

“Sure thing, Doc,” The woman the physician had called Beth said with a lovely smile and threw a glance in Fenris’ direction before she headed out, closing the door behind her. Fenris barely felt his heart hammering in his chest because of his utter confusion. Why had she done nothing to haul him up and get him back into bed? It was utterly strange. To make more sense of this completely weird behavior, he decided to watch the physician again, who had resolved to humming while continuing to stroke the child’s hair. 

“I want my mahm,” The girl mumbled, sounding sleepy and not as frightened as Fenris would have believed. “When will she come back?”

“Your mom won’t come back, little one,” The physician replied softly after a lengthy silence, “She’s with the spirits of your ancestors now, hunting through the eternal woods. Your auntie will take care of you until you can meet her again.”

“Atta is nice,” The girl allowed and sniffled again, “But I want my mahm.”

“You can visit her in your dreams. That’s why you should sleep now, darling, and give your pretty little legs time to heal. Okay?”

“Okay,” The girl said with a yawn, her eyes slipping shut. There was silence for a while, only interrupted by her slowly steadying breath, until the physician finally drew his hands away with a deep sigh and stood up. When his eyes met Fenris’, Fenris immediately bared his teeth, only restraining from growling to not wake the girl. To his disgust, the physician just smiled and knelt down in front of him with a groan. 

“I’m too old for this shit,” He muttered before focusing on Fenris. “Please get back into bed. You’re bleeding on my floor again.”

It was only at this remark that Fenris looked down at himself and noticed the dark blood seeping through the bandages around his torso. No wonder he felt so weak. “That is none of your concern. Leave me alone.”

“You’re under my care, of course it is of my concern!” The physician protested. Fenris duly wondered how a human this size could have such a soft voice. It was completely out of the normal. Then again, the physician was a lunatic, so maybe it was to be expected. 

“Leave me alone,” He hissed, noting with satisfaction how the physician winced a little at his vicious tone. “I want to get out of here.”

“You will never get out of here if you don’t stop trying to escape!” The physician whispered furiously. “Look, it’s not in my intention to harm you, alright? Hawke told me you had some bad experiences with doctors, but I am just here to help you. You need to rest so that these wounds can heal up properly. Now come up here, please. You’re not doing yourself a favor, you know? The more you look after yourself now, the sooner you can leave.”

Fenris growled, albeit quietly. The girl shifted in her sleep, but did not wake up. It was clear to him that he had no other choice in his weakened state, so he slowly got up on his feet despite the pain, growling again when the physician lightly touched his arm to support him on the few steps to his bed. They were silent while the physician changed his bloody bandages with quick, practiced motions, not looking up into Fenris’ face once.

“What happened to her?” Fenris heard himself ask to his surprise. The physician briefly looked up at him at that before he turned his head for a second to look at the girl, then back at Fenris again. He was not able to look Fenris in the eyes. It was a little satisfying.

“Her father pushed both her and her mother down two stairs,” He answered slowly. Fenris, with his trained, perfect ability to find out points of weakness at his opponents, noticed how the physician’s broad shoulders hunched visibly. “Her mother hit her head on a sharp edge. Lethal wound. Margaret was lucky, in a way.”

“Lucky,” Fenris hissed and shoved the physician’s big, warm hands away as soon as he was done. “You call that lucky? Maybe that would have never happened if the laws in this country would allow elves rights that are basic for humans.”

“You are right,” The physician agreed easily enough that Fenris was interrupted in his vengeful speech and left confused. “I have seen things you people would not believe. The situation of districts like this one is madness.”

“Does it make you feel righteous now?” Fenris snapped viciously, “You’re just another human trying to make himself look better by playing the messiah and martyr, claiming how bad the conditions for elves are and that he is the only one trying to make it better. Maybe you wouldn’t have to make it better if elves were allowed to help themselves instead of being confined in every possible way. You’re not better than anyone else. Don’t tell yourself you are.”

The physician did not look up, his hands stilled around the bloodied bandages. Slowly, almost carefully he raised and turned his back on Fenris. “Don’t strain the- the sutures anymore,” He said, voice strangely strained and dark. Fenris watched him leave the room, disgust glowing bright and fierce in his veins.


	5. Bethany

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My,my, it's been a while since I updated this story! Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews, kudos and bookmarks, they make me very happy <3  
> And now, enjoy reading!

To be honest, sometimes her job was exhausting.

Certainly, she learned a lot, but very often she also stole into the small kitchen in Anders’ living quarters where she had been granted unlimited access to, curled up into a tight ball and cried because it was hard. It was hard seeing people die on a regular basis, not one, but dozens. It was hard considering a day where only two or three people died to be a good day. It was hard watching elves that looked as if they had escaped death in the last second showing up on their doorstep. It was hard patching up and stitching and giving out medication and still being able to do absolutely nothing on many occasions. 

She had absolutely no idea how Anders did it.

She could not understand how he could be comforted by the poverty and misery he would have dealt with almost twenty-four hours per day if Beth would have allowed it. All the things she had studied did not enable her to look directly into his head, see the demon he fought with on a regular basis without letting it show much. He had such tight control over himself and his actions that she was in awe whenever she really thought about it. 

Of course, the time where he lost that control was even more terrific because of that very reason. It was also so very exhausting sometimes to make sure he did not forget to eat, slept enough, took his pills regularly, checked in with his therapist at least weekly. It was not his fault, just like the spirals into mania or the downfalls into depression were not his fault. It was just the way things were; when he slipped, he forgot to eat, to sleep, to take his pills regularly, to check in with his therapist. That was what Beth was there for in the first place: To notice the signs when he could not because he was too far into it and to react on it.  
Thankfully, Beth had experienced one of his full manic phases only once ever since she started taking care of him. It was an experience she did not like to think back on because it had been frightening for everyone involved. How strange it had to be, she wondered while she tripped over Ser Pounce-a-lot for the fifth time this day and swore loudly, how strange it had to be to lose oneself so completely in one single thing that everything and everyone else did not matter anymore at all. And such a shame it was because he was downright manipulatively charming then, all bright eyes and loud voice and confident swagger, but at the same time dangerous on a level that he put not only others, but himself as well at risk. It was one of the reasons Anders had completely withdrawn himself from the dating scene, did not even have much sex except the one or other hook-up every once in a while when he was so agitated that Beth practically forced him to blow off some steam (sometimes, as Bethany suspected, quite literally). It was the same reason Anders pushed Garrett away a year ago when the fling they had back then threatened to evolve into something more serious.

It was a shame because Bethany knew what a proud, dedicated long-term lover Anders could be.

With a sigh, she tied her hair into a bun while she thought of Karl, who had been her professor for a year before the accident. It was through Karl that she had met his husband Anders, who had been different back then, brasher, bolder, more unforgiving, louder, younger. They had not known of his condition back then, she recalled, even though Karl had suspected it, of course he had. Everyone at the university knew the story of the young student Anders who had almost aggressively followed his much older professor, courting and wooing him with an unbelievable level of romance and intensity until Karl gave in. Bethany had thought it quite romantic, especially the fact that they had gotten married so fast after that, but now that she had witnessed the end of it all and knew what had lain behind Anders’ determination, she was not so sure anymore. 

Then, Anders went to war and nothing had been the same ever since.

Ever since Karl’s death and the year spent in isolation at the mental health station, Anders had been a shadow of himself. The only thing he had been sure about when they finally allowed him to leave permanent stay at the station was that he would definitely never go back there again. Bethany, despite studying to become a therapist, could relate in a way; she did not like the people leading the biggest hospital in town. 

“I cannot remember that you signed up for being my cleaning lady,” Anders said behind her and with a smile, she straightened up from the place she had knelt at and straightened. Anders did not meet her eyes, which was never a good sign but not very worrying either. The thing that was more worrying was the way his hands were clenched tightly into each other. 

“I needed a break after that little girl,” Bethany admitted because if nothing else, one could always be honest with Anders. Sometimes he gave you shit about it, but never because you told the truth, just because sometimes he did not like your opinion and was not afraid to say so. It was frustrating and refreshing at the same time. This time, Anders just nodded and his hands slightly relaxed when he tried to show her a reassuring smile. Taking care of people always relaxed him; maybe, Beth had once speculated, because it gave him the feeling that he was alright and needed. “Do you mind terribly?”

“That you cleaned my kitchen floor? No.” With a sigh, Anders picked up Lady Give-me-meow and Queen Meowgana and held them close to his chest. “That was pretty terrible, wasn’t it. Maybe you should go home, sleep some. I’m…I’ll just, probably, close the clinic for the day as well.”

Bethany frowned. This was bad; she sensed a level of badness that headed into a direction she did not like very much. “How so?”

“I am tired,” Anders said with a shrug and did not look at her when he rubbed his nose slightly, lovingly, across the head of Queen Meowgana. “I just…” He trailed off and was silent for a long while before he started to speak again. “Do you think that what I am doing here is entirely pointless?”

Bethany blinked and leaned her back against the counter to inspect him more closely. “Are you serious, Anders?”

“Yes,” Anders said and was not even smiling, meeting her gaze at last while he waited for her answer. 

Garrett probably would have laughed it off. Garrett was an idiot sometimes.

“I don’t know what caused this, but no, Anders, I absolutely don’t think that what you are doing here is pointless, far from it,” She said gently and left the counter to wrap her arms around him. Anders towered over her by several inches, but she still felt taller than him at that moment. The physician breathed out, letting go of the kittens to be able to return her hug. “You are helping people who cannot help themselves. You supporting an entire district, goddamn it. Without you, so many folks would be in deep trouble!”

“Maybe you’re right,” Anders said slowly, but he did not sound particularly convinced. “I just…What if…I hate this system.”

“I do too,” Bethany said encouragingly, soothingly. Sometimes Anders felt better after venting for a while. 

“There is so much injustice happening, I don’t even know where to start,” He muttered and clung tighter onto her like a lost, frightened child. “What am I going to do? What if there is nothing I can do?”

“Don’t say that,” Beth scolded him lightly.

“What if I am right, though,” Anders murmured and sighed. “What if this will never change? What if he’s—nevermind.”

“Who?” Beth immediately lunged in with another frown. If it was Fenris, she would kill him, no matter if he was friends with Garrett or not. Considering the way he looked at humans, he would try to slaughter her as brutally as possible as well, so maybe she would not even feel guilty about it. Much. 

“Nevermind,” Anders repeated and let go of her with a deep sigh. “Thank you for the hug. I just… I have to think about some stuff. Work some things out.”

“It’s alright,” Beth said with a smile and patted his shoulder. “Just take your time.”

Anders smiled again and rubbed his forehead, gaze briefly gliding over the wedding picture on the wall. “I feel alone sometimes,” He said at last, not looking at her again and already turning towards the bedroom. “Sometimes it would be nice to have someone with you, don’t you think? Do you have a boyfriend at the moment?”

“Not anymore, no, we broke up a month ago,” Beth said with a sigh. “He was a jerk. I’m glad Garrett punched him in his face.”

At that, Anders laughed quietly and shook his head. “Me too,” He said, looking back over his shoulder. “Go home, Beth. I promise I’ll be good.”

“Alright,” Beth said and watched him disappear behind the curtain before she left his living quarters to check in on the people at the refuge and the broody elf in their long term-station. There were people who had to be taken of, after all, and no matter how exhausting, she had an obligation.


	6. Anders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since the last update here, hasn't it? I apologize! Also, thank you all so much for your lovely feedback, you're all great <3

It had been two weeks since the day Hawke brought Fenris into the clinic and apparently the elf deemed his wounds healed up enough because one day, Anders went out of his private rooms and found him looming around in the hallway, glaring at every human passing by and obviously out of bed even though he should not have been.

Anders blinked. Fenris glared back, put on a haughty face and said, “I am ready to go.”

“Uh, excuse me, but you’re ready to go when I say so, I’m the doctor, not you,” Anders pointed out, which turned out to be exactly the wrong thing to say because Fenris’ glare immediately became life-threatening and he shifted his stance into something that could only be called utterly aggressive. It was a shame, really, that the elf was such an unpleasant person because nobody could deny that he was the most attractive man Anders had seen for quite a while. 

“This is _my_ body,” Fenris pressed out between clenched teeth, “And you cannot force me to stay in this hole, _doctor_.”  
“You are still limping. You do get that you can make everything so much worse if you put too much strain on these injuries too soon, yeah?”

“Don’t talk to me as if I was an idiot,” Fenris snapped, his pretty green eyes glinting with utter disgust. Anders could feel his hackles rise; he had never responded well to people being absolute assholes. 

“Then don’t behave like one, maybe I’ll reconsider my tone of voice then,” He hissed, unconsciously making a step forward so he could tower over the elf, if only because he knew that it would make Fenris mad. This had to be one of the most unpleasant, ungrateful patients he ever had. 

“I ship it,” A dark, smooth voice said behind Anders. He watched Fenris’ expression change from murderous to brief surprise until he settled on annoyance, which caused Anders to turn around as well, finding himself eye to eye with Isabela. The woman smiled sultrily at him from underneath her long, dark lashes and corrected the position of her trademark blue bandana while Anders was briefly distracted by the almost dangerous cleavage her very, very short white dress showed and that was only highlighted by the valuable, intricate gold chain consisting of several thick golden rings linked into each other. 

Isabela never gave a fuck. It had been that one thing above all that had drove him into her arms for one night. Isabela tasted like the freedom of mind and body he had been searching for ever since his parents had sent him away. 

“Hi, Bell,” He grinned and leaned in to kiss her dark cheek. “Long time no see.”

“You could say that, Sparkles,” She replied with a cheeky grin that showed a small dimple in the cheek he had just kissed. “What does it take these days to get you out of here and come play with us? Look how desperate you made us, coming here for a simple card game instead of coming together at the Hanged Man.”

“That was an awful lot of ‘coming’ in one sentence.”

“More coming than you’ve seen for a while, I bet,” Isabela answered and laughed at his expression before winking at Fenris and waving a hand. “Hey, Broody, I see you’re better again!”

“That’s what I try to tell that pig-headed asshole in front of me as well,” Fenris answered sourly, but his face was almost- friendly.

“You two know each other?” Anders inquired with a frown and Isabela patted his shoulder.

“At least he comes for regular gatherings,” She said, not even bothering with keeping the slight accusation out of her voice. Anders was spared a response when Hawke burst into the corridor as well, Varric and Merrill tagging along and filling the tight space with chattering and more accusations as well as slight shoving and bumping until Anders finally managed to herd them all back into his private quarters. He stopped by Bethany and touched her shoulder.

“Hey, can you do me a favor?”

“That’s what I’m here for, as long as it is a non-sexual favor,” Bethany replied with a grin and cocked her head. “What’s up?”

“I’m letting the clinic stay closed this evening, apparently,” Anders said with a sigh. “Could you be so nice and have an eye on the people at the refuge before you call it a day? You can come get me if there is any medical emergency, of course.”

“Sure thing, Doc,” Bethany said and smiled warmly. “Enjoy your evening, you deserve it, you know?”

“I guess,” Anders responded with a small laughter and a sigh before he headed back into his private rooms where he found his intrusive friends- and Fenris, who he apparently had to tolerate this evening, even though he should really rest- already gathered around the large coffee table in front of his sofa that was currently occupied by a sleeping Ser Pounce-a-lot and Fenris, who eyed the cat with the mistrustful look of a war veteran finding himself eye-to-eye with a time bomb. It was amusing enough that Anders felt a mean grin spread across his face before he deliberately squeezed himself between the cat and Fenris. The elf watched him with nastily curled lips as he picked up the cat to place him onto his lap. 

As he predicted, Lady Give-me-meow did not take long to jump onto the sofa as well, running over Fenris’ lap without any care and causing the elf to hiss something in a foreign language.

“Not a friend of cats, I take it?” Anders asked lightly, taking the cards Isabela had dealt him in the meantime and barely suppressing a sigh. He had never been particularly lucky in his life and card games were no exception. 

“They are mistrustful, treacherous creatures who only use their owners to gain some benefit,” Fenris replied tersely. Anders looked up from his cards and narrowed his eyes. Varric sighed and nudged Isabela.

“That’s it,” The dwarf said amiably and in a volume that everyone could hear him. “Either Anders kills him now or somebody is going to cry. Where is the booze?”

“A bottle of wine would be appreciated indeed,” Fenris said in his damnable smooth voice while he locked eyes with Anders who did not know if he wanted to strangle or fuck him. To be fair, Fenris’ expression strongly indicated that he thought about using said bottle to smash it over Anders’ head and laugh standing above Anders’ cold corpse. 

“In the left cupboard must be all the bottles people get me as a gift because they don’t remember I don’t drink,” Anders answered without looking away from Fenris, feeling very strongly that this was the most important round of “whoever looks away first is the loser” he had ever played. Hawke made a sheepish noise at his words and got up to fetch several bottles. Fenris smirked and it should not have made something hot and heavy unfurl in his stomach but he was in some of these phases where almost everything could turn him on, which had to be the reason why he reacted so strongly at someone he did not like at all.   
Damn the elf for being so pretty. 

“Can’t hold your liquor, doctor?” Fenris asked in a low, almost sultry voice. He made a show out of deliberately looking away first, as if Anders was not worth his attention at all, and grabbing one of the already opened bottles before taking a deep swing. Anders watched the sinuous movement of this throat when he swallowed and thought about the many different ways of killing a person.

“Does not do well with my meds,” He pressed out and was very glad about said meds because they prevented him from doing something very, very silly. Like punching the elf right into his too-pretty face. Or fucking him into the carpet in front of everyone.

“Right,” Fenris nodded, “For a moment I forgot you’re a lunatic on top of being a human doctor. Won’t happen again.”

“Fenris,” Hawke said sharply from the carpet while something in Anders’ stomach lurched and turned the warmth into coldness, “Cut it off, will ya? We’re not here to fight. We’re here to play cards.”

“Well, I am here to win,” Isabela muttered.

“I am dying from all this tension and I am not even directly involved,” Varric commented and earned an approving nod from Isabela. “Can we start now? Good.”

Anders clenched his teeth and decided to completely _destroy_ Fenris in the game.


	7. Fenris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I updated this one, but here we go! Thank you for all your lovely feedback, I hope someone out there is still reading this ;_;

The problem with Merrill was that she was _too fucking happy_.

Fenris looked at her with her stupid, artificial flowers in her dark hair, her psychedelic, ankle-long skirt and her dark-green, sleeveless shirt and could not help but take another long swig from the wine bottle. Elves like her were the reason why movies always depicted their race as tree-hugging, smiling folks with long, pointed ears. Fenris wanted to murder them all. 

Still, he could not help but admit that Merrill was pretty. Unlike many other elves, especially female ones, she did not try to make herself look more human by using too much make-up; in fact, she wore no make-up at all besides some lip gloss that was manufactured completely free of animal experiments. She was such a fucking hippie. 

Apparently even the physician, who turned out to be one of the worst card players Fenris had ever seen because he did not manage to put on a decent poker face at all, surprisingly thought the same because he groaned whenever Merrill started talking.  
“What Dalish elves practice is a dangerous, old-fashioned practice,” He finally snapped after one of Merrill’s stories about her work in the Dalish tribe. Fenris could feel his hackles rise as the physician continued, “Healing simply by jumping around and calling some strange Gods while using powders of questionable origin to enhance your and your patient’s senses is, if at all, heavily based on placebo effect and can be lethal.”

To be fair, Fenris quietly thought the same, but it was something different when he as an elf considered the Dalish practices foolish, so he growled, “And what would you know, physician? Is it that much better to be stuffed with medication nobody knows the ingredients for as well?”

“Only because human medicine works differently doesn’t mean our way of healing doesn’t work at all,” Merrill agreed and shot a grateful look at Fenris, who did not quite know what to do with it. “I understand that you prefer your method and I greatly appreciate what you’re doing for the city elves, but please stop being so dismissive about our practice. We’re accepting of your practices as well, aren’t we?”

“No, we aren’t,” Fenris growled and could feel the wine warm his veins, so he took another long swallow. Merrill sighed; so did Hawke before starting another round while Isabela silently counted the bills on her lap. “And we aren’t grateful for what he’s doing for the elves around here as well. Men like him are the reason why our people are suppressed in the first place.”  
“You mean human males?” Anders asked with raised brows. “Funny, I can only ever see you accusing _me_ of suppression and never Hawke.”

“Hawke is an exception.”

“I like being an exception,” Hawke nodded. 

“An exception,” Anders echoed and shook his head. A gleam appeared in his eyes and he noticeably sat straighter, a stern expression on his face that was strangely alluring. Fenris cursed him. “Isn’t that a little hypocritical? ‘Oh, all the human males are so bad, but Hawke is alright’? I agree with you that there are many things wrong in this country, but I don’t see why I should be your scape goat for everything that is wrong in your life. You cannot expect me to overthrow an entire government for correcting all the wrong that has been done to elves. I am but one person and I am considered to be an untrustworthy lunatic on top of that, as you pointed out yourself so nicely. Most people want to see me locked away and out of sight.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel bad for you, physician?” Fenris snorted and took another swig from the bottle, noticing with a frown that he had managed to completely empty it and therefore reaching for another to uncork it. “Poor little human being allowed to study medicine without having to put up with student loans and injustice. Poor little human being able to check into a mental health facility and pay for the stay. Have you ever been the slave of someone? Have you ever been forced to obey every whim and command of a man because you were not born a free man, doing what he tells you to, killing who he tells you to, fucking who he tells you to? No. You haven’t. But I have and so have thousands of other elves in South America.” Fenris found himself spitting on the floor in sheer rage. “You disgust me with your self-pity, human. You know nothing about misery at all.”

There was silence for a second; he could feel Isabelas’ eyes filled with something like pity upon him, but he decided to completely ignore it. Instead, he focused on the hardened expression on the physician’s face, the way he dug his fingernails into the balms of his hands. Merrill looked away with tears in her eyes, softly muttering Elvish words Fenris could only barely understand because the only knowledge he had of the language of his people were dreams and ghosts of his mother and sister talking to him as a child before he had been taken away. He clamped down on that thought, tried to erase it. 

“Well, a troubled past still doesn’t excuse you for being an asshole,” Anders had the gall to point out.

Which was the exact moment Fenris lunged himself at him, scaring two cats and causing them to scream madly while toppling the goddamn physician over the couch. 

“What the flying fuck!” Hawke yelled as his glass of wine fell over and dark red liquid spilled all over Hawke, who jumped into the air as if being stung by a wild bee, and the carpet. He managed to stumble over Isabela, falling face-first into her cleavage while Fenris punched Anders in his stupid, handsome, arrogant face. The physician yelled in pain and even though he was only a match for Fenris because he was still injured, his grip was strong when he gripped one of Fenris’ ears and forcibly pulled it. Stinging pain shot through Fenris and he did not even notice he was sinking his teeth into Anders’ upper arm until he felt someone grabbing his neck and pulling him away.

“That’s enough,” Varric said, holding his neck and ignoring his growl and bared teeth. At least Anders was grabbed by Hawke and pressed into a headlock as well when he tried to pull Fenris’ hair. “What are you two, school girls fighting over the cutest boy at the school yard?”

“He started it,” Anders gritted out, staring at Fenris with a murderous expression. Fenris decided to answer with a low growl. It had been a long while since he had last felt the urge to press somebody down, hold him by his throat and bite into it this strong. The physician was infuriating; watching him wipe away blood shooting out from his nose was oddly satisfying.

“I need new pants,” Hawke said while Isabela corrected the position of her dress and smiled smugly at Merrill, who blushed and looked away. 

“Suit yourself,” Anders said without looking away for even a second.

“Can I let you go without you two jumping at each other like wild monkeys again?” Hawke asked sternly.

“If it only was the fun kind of jumping,” Isabela sighed and, completely unfazed by the occurences, reached for the wine again. “You can also completely forget the pants, Hawke, nobody will complain.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time we saw you without pants, anyways,” Varric said and grinned, slowly easing his grip around Fenris. “Hoo, boy. Calm now, we’re Blondie’s guests, you know? That’s no good manner.”

“I spit on your good manners,” Fenris growled and spit on Anders’ floor again, just because.   
“Can you please stop spitting on my floor? Jesus-“

“I shan’t!”

“Queen Meowgana is soaked with wine, you know,” Merrill commented wisely, which had the consequence that Anders’ facial expression immediately softened and his murderous gaze at Fenris turned into an utterly concerned one at the cat. Fenris watched him gently picking up the cat and carrying her into the kitchen with soft crooning and found himself utterly perplexed by this behavior. Was this something the illness did? This jumping from aggression to concern? He refrained from asking- even if he only did it to be considerate of Hawke’s nerves. A slight, stinging tension in his leg made him straighten up from the crouched, aggressive position he had instinctively found himself in. 

“I am going,” He said, which made Hawke frown. “I’ve had enough.”

“Fenris, you can’t just-“ Hawke began, but Fenris did not listen. He felt the blood in his vein pulsing with anger, fierceness and something he could not name, an intense heat in his belly. There was no way he stayed any longer in this clinic. With a huff and pushing Hawke’s hands forcefully aside, he rushed out of the living room, passed the confused warden and marched into the open streets. He felt as if a heavy weight was lifted from his chest; with a huff, he went to the next cigarette automat, pulled himself a pack of Marlboro and lit a cigarette.

The first drag tasted like freedom.


	8. Merrill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's back with an update! :D I apologize sincerely for the delay, I am a lazy motherfucker. Thank you so much for all your support <3<3

Isabela was still fast asleep when Merrill woke up, but that was nothing unusual; of the two of them, Merrill had always been the early riser. It was different when Isabela was out on the open sea, but the ship she lived on had not left the haven for quite a while now and she expected the crews of her transport ships to function without her as well, which they did. With a smile, Merrill lowered her head to kiss Isabela’s cheeks. The pirate- because despite all apparent following the law, Isabela would never be anything else but a pirate in her heart and in most of her actions- murmured something in her sleep, but did not move. Merrill decided to let her sleep and slid out of the bed without a sound. 

As an elf who had spent most of her life in the forests far away from any human settlement like a town before curiosity got the better out of her, she still did not like being on a ship very much. She always had to adapt to the swaying planks underneath her feet again, even though it was easy to do so as long as they did not leave the haven where the water was very quiet. 

With a sigh, Merrill turned on the shower and stepped into the water spray. For a while, she simply stood there with closed eyes and sorely regretted not having turned on the radio, if only at a quiet volume. She liked it best when Isabela showered with her, shaking her hips and singing loudly and unashamedly while doing so, causing both of them to never be entirely under the spray. It did not matter; Isabela’s liveliness, her love of life and seizing opportunities, never letting a chance go by if she did not have to, was what had drawn Merrill towards her in the first place. She had been happy, oh so very happy when Isabela had not turned her away, even though she was an elf, and a Dalish one at that. Hawke’s friends were all lovely and accepting, even though they all had their issues, but, Merrill guessed, so did she.

When she got out of the shower and grabbed a towel, Isabela came in and hugged her, yawning against her collarbone. With a smile, Merrill snuggled closer and hummed when Isabela started kissing her neck and sensitive left ear, licking water from her skin while doing so. 

“Good morning, handsome,” The pirate murmured and lightly bit into Merrill’s ear, chuckling when she earned a squeak. “How about getting some breakfast?”

“That would be great!” Merrill answered happily and let go of Isabela to towel herself off while the other woman stepped into the shower as well. “The usual?”

“Sure thing, Daisy.”

“Cool.” She slipped into the bedroom to fish for black underpants before she pulled her favorite green dress over her head, closing a black belt around her waist. When Merrill caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she paused and looked at her reflection, gently touching the tattooed lines on her face and neck that showed she was a Dalish. Isabela found her that way a few minutes later and chuckled before wrapping her strong arms around her from behind. Together, they watched Merrill’s reflection in the mirror. 

“I can’t stop thinking of what Fenris said yesterday,” Merrill finally whispered and met Isabela’s gaze in the mirror. “He never…talked about what happened to him that much. It’s awful, just… It’s not fair. He’s not even Dalish. Why do people hate other people just because of the way they were born?”

“Oh, honey,” Isabela said softly, pressing a gentle kiss against her cheek. “Never make the mistake and start generalizing people like other people generalize people. We’ll make the world a better place. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But one day, or maybe every day a little more, inch by inch. You know what you learn when you steal from other people?”

“How to avoid security cameras and policemen?” 

Isabela laughed heartily and ruffled her hair, laughing again when Merrill squeaked indignantly. “Yeah, that too, but actually I meant that you learn to be patient, wait for the subtle signals before making your move. Life’s a game, you know, and I don’t mean that in a bad way. I do take life serious, don’t get me wrong, but it’s like chess. It just is. And you-“ Isabela pressed her lips against Merrill’s cheek again, then slid them over her exposed shoulder, “You are my queen. Now let me dress and let’s get going, I’m starving.”

&&&

“Okay, what’s the deal, sweet-cheeks?”

The problem was that people were staring. They always did when Merrill and Isabela walked through town, but today it irked Merrill and she could not really tell why. It was completely understandable because Merrill was a female Dalish elf and Isabela was an infamous female pirate who controlled almost every illegal transport made from the port and was not afraid to wear a dress that barely concealed her lady parts. Isabela had her arm casually slung around the elf’s waist like she always did, walking with that confident sway of her hips that made Merrill almost trip over because Isabela was taller than her, but it was still nice and comforting. “Can we go to the cinema this evening? It’s been a while since we went on a date.”

“Sure we can,” Isabela agreed easily and smiled at her, raising her brows when her gaze fell on a slunk figure at the entrance of the Hanged Man. “Now if that isn’t our favorite grumpy elf. Hey, Broody, how you doing?”

“Go away,” Fenris muttered without opening his eyes, grabbing blindly for a pack of cigarettes, pulling one out, putting it between his teeth and lighting it. He looked like he had been dragged to hell and back; since the last evening, something had ripped two new holes in his shirt, there were dirty spots on his pants and a scratch on his cheek. “What’s the hour?”

“Ten in the morning, have you _slept here_?” Merrill asked disbelievingly, “Don’t you have a home, Fenris?”

“Maybe,” Fenris said a little more viciously and opened his green eyes to glare at her. He was an exceptionally beautiful elf; Merrill wondered if he even knew. “None of your business anyways.”

“God fucking damn it, Fenris, are you still staying at that house you slaughtered those slayers in?” Isabela snapped, jamming her hands into her hips while Fenris got up to his feet. “Hawke said he’d help you find something new! Did you even get rid of the bodies?”

“I like their skeletons laying around and reminding me of that I’m capable at weeding out the world’s biggest pieces of scum with one arm tied behind my back.”

“You know why I like you so much, Fen? It’s your endless optimism about life. Now get in there and ask Varric about a shower or I’ll make you. And stop glaring at me, what are you, five?”

“I’m just waiting for Hawke,” Fenris muttered, letting the stub of his cigarette fall on the ground before stomping on it. “Might as well do it inside the bar.”

“It’s ten in the morning, don’t you think you’re starting to drink a little too-“

“Get a _life_ , Merrill,” Fenris groaned before disappearing in the bar.

“You ain’t talking to my woman like that, Fenris,” Isabela snapped and followed him. Merrill trailed after them, sighing to herself but smiling again when Varric waved at her. She hopped over to him and sat down. Varric was one of the few dwarves that had decided to actually mingle with humans and elves; usually, dwarves kept to themselves in their thaigs, even though they delivered the finest technology for the cities. Out of some reason, Varric had decided to settle in the middle of the city and become the owner of a pub and a bestselling author of romance novels. Merrill could understand why Hawke liked him so much: Varric never judged, always listened and told the best stories ever.

“Hi, Varric,” She said and tried to take a look at the laptop in front of the dwarf. “What’re you writing?”

“I’m working on that story about the pirate winning over the heart of a totally sweet mermaid that gets caught in one of the pirate’s nets. Every similarity to living persons is completely unintentional, of course.” Varric grinned at her and closed the laptop, throwing a glance at Fenris and Isabela at the bar where Fenris was already nursing a glass of wine. “Broody slept in front of the Hanged Man again. Wouldn’t even let me haul him in, let alone let him sleep on the couch. Wouldn’t go back to that place he calls home either. I don’t know what’s going on with him.”

“He doesn’t like being confined to a place and people he doesn’t like,” Merrill answered with a shrug, “And Hawke basically forced him to stay at the clinic until he was better, didn’t he? Maybe that wasn’t the smartest move.”

“Ah, Hawke is a good man, he only meant well,” Varric said and smiled apologetically. “His ideas usually are good ones. At least they’re mildly reasonable, mostly.”

Of course, Hawke chose exactly this moment to storm into the building like a bull in heat. “Well fuck me sideways and call me toast, I got the best idea!” Hawke yelled and somehow managed to grin at all of them at the same time. “Let’s start a band.”

“Well,” Varric said with a sigh, “I said mostly, didn’t I?”


	9. Hawke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rushes in with a new chapter* I AM SO SORRY OH MY GOD FORGIVE ME *sobs* Here, FINALLY the ninth chapter, I hope it will be pleasing enough to make up for the delay ;_;

“Come on, I mean it was always my dream to have a band at some point,” Hawke said and ushered the barkeeper to bring him another beer. Varric sighed and rubbed his temples, so Hawke continued determinedly, “And I thought, why not now that I’m in my best years, you know? You could write the most amazing song lyrics ever!”

“It’s not me you should worry about, Hawke,” Varric said with a small laughter, “You know I’ll always be at your side. But what about, uh, you know- other band members? What’re you gonna play?”

“Well, the drums of course, right, Hawke?” Merrill chimed in and laughed when Hawke put an arm around her and drew her close. 

“ _Exactly_. You know people so well sometimes, Merrill, that’s what I like about you!” He said and pressed a quick kiss against her cheek. “You wanna join? I remember that one time you played piano on mom’s birthday, it was wonderful!”

Merrill bit her lip and looked at him hesitantly. “Hawke, I’m…That’s not going to work, a band with elves and humans alike.”

“And dwarves.”

“Right. Sorry, Varric. And dwarves, of course.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Hawke snorted, “It’d just be for fun, nothing serious, just---getting a new hobby, alright? And we all did so well together, we might as well be the next generation of F.R.I.E.N.D.S.!” When he found Fenris, who apparently had showered and put on something without blood stains and dirt on it, even though the clothes were Hawke’s spare ones for massive hangovers after a night at the bar and therefore much too big on Fenris’ leaner, smaller frame- walking down the stairs that led from Varric’s apartment to the bar room of the Hanged Man, he waved at him. “Yo, Fenris! You with me?”

“Does it involve killing someone?” Fenris asked and slid into the stool next to him, looking grim when the barkeeper put a glass of red wine in front of him without having been prompted. “Then yes.”

“Nope, just music,” Hawke replied cheerfully before a silver glinting on Fenris’ right ear caught his eye. “Is that another ring, Fen?”

Fenris blinked at him and briefly touched the new, third ring of silver in the outer shell of his ear. “Oh. Yeah.”

“This is so brave of you!” Merrill said before blushing slightly. “Bell always tries to get me to do one, but I chicken out. The one in my navel? No problem. In my ear? Never, not even for the heightened sensibility. I don’t go and pierce my clitoris either, no do I?”

“What the fuck?” Fenris asked while Varric and Hawke started roaring with laughter. “What the fuck, Merrill, nobody wants to hear about your--- that doesn’t have anything to do with my--- Hawke, why the hell are you laughing?”

“Did you do that yourself again, Fen?” Hawke asked when he stopped laughing. Fenris shrugged and looked away, allowing strands of his hair to fall over his face and ear and therefore cover the three rings. “You know you should let this stuff get done by a professional?”

Fenris said nothing, but he also did not curse at him like he would probably do with someone else. It was these moments Hawke felt he had a special place in Fenris’ heart and life, even more so when he turned towards him again, tilted his chin up and said, “I like it.”

“I like it too, Fen, no need to raise your hackles,” Hawke replied warmly and clapped his shoulder. “Now, you wanna sing for my band?”

“What?” Fenris asked after a pause and did that disbelieving thing with his eyebrows Hawke admired him for so much. “I’m not…No.”

“Oh, come on! You’ve got the best voice in this entire city! You know it, I know it, Isabela knows it, hell, even Varric knows it!”

“I don’t sing, Hawke, not even for you, I’m not a bird and that’s my final word on it,” Fenris snapped and rubbed the back of his head with a deep sigh before sliding off the bar stool. He had not even touched his glass of wine.

“I think I’ll look for Isabela,” Merrill said quietly and slipped away into the depths of the Hanged Man to find her woman. Hawke watched her go and admired her perfect butt before turning his attention towards Fenris again.

“Fen, can we talk?” He said because this was important; there were only so many people in this town he wanted to see dead and lately he had started to wonder what Fenris did when he did not accompany him to some of the seedier jobs. As he had expected, Fenris only hesitated for about a second before he sat down again with a grunt. Sometimes the responsibility he had to not break Fenris’ heart and betray his trust. He did not know why Fenris had chosen to follow especially him blindly wherever they went, but he was determined to not let him down. “Your wounds feel any better?”

Fenris grunted and finally took a sip of his glass. “That fucking douchebag asshole of a human doctor at least knows a little what he is doing.”

“I see,” Hawke said and hid a grin. Once Fenris had settled for an opinion about something, he did not change it very easily or soon, if at all. In that way, if he wanted to hear it or not, he was just like Anders. “He’s not that bad, you know. He’s a good guy at the end of the day. Anyways, this is not about Anders. This is about me wanting you to be part of my band. It’s just fun, Fen. It doesn’t have to be anything else. Come on.”

Fenris was silent for a long while, which was not necessarily a bad thing, especially because he stole one of the cigarettes Hawke had put in the breast pocket of his shirt and lit it. Hawke watched him smoke and smiled because Fenris might have been a tragedy, but he was a beautiful and good one. “Who else’d be in that band?”

“Well, me, Varric writes the songs, Merrill’d play the keyboard- don’t groan, Fenris, I know you like her deep, deep, very deep down in your heart-, uh, I want Isabela as a bassist, and, uh, yeah.”

Fenris’ head snapped back to him and he narrowed his eyes. “If you’re thinking about bringing the physician into this, I’m out of this.”

“Oh, come on, Fen, don’t be like this,” Hawke moaned, “Anders has played the guitar since he was sixteen! Well, alright, maybe he hasn’t played for a while now, but I’m pretty sure you can’t forget something like that, you know?”

“I don’t care.”

“Why are you always like this?”

“Because the world forces me to. I don’t sing in front of people, Hawke, and I sing even less when the physician is involved.”

Hawke shook his head in disbelief. “Why are you so hostile towards him? I know he can be an idiot, but he’s quite alright, you know, mostly at least. He’s not a bad guy.”

Fenris clenched his teeth and growled at him, “He is an asshole and a selfish prick who has no idea what he is talking about and thinks he can change the world."

Hawke opened his mouth to say something about not throwing the first stone when he noticed that Fenris had dug his fingers so deeply in his borrowed trousers that his knuckles had turned white. Letting his gaze wander over his face, Hawke saw the way he bit his lips and his ears twitched only ever so slightly in a way that could only mean either utter frustration or--- “Oh my god, you think he’s hot.”

“I most certainly do not,” Fenris hissed and if Hawke had not already known him for so many years, he would have probably believed him. As it was, he had learned to read the subtle signs. 

“Is that was all that grappling was about? You just wanted to tap his ass? Pretty sure you could’ve just asked him, I bet Anders hasn’t had sex for quite a while, don’t think he would turn you d-“

“That’s it,” Fenris snapped and slipped off of the bar stool. “I’m going and I’m not singing for you. Fuck you, Hawke, really.”

“Fen---hey, Fen, wait, I didn’t mean it like that!” Hawke called after him, realizing that he probably overdid it, but Fenris only flipped the bird before the door of the Hanged Man was yanked open and fell shut with a loud noise after Fenris had walked out. 

Well. That had definitely been eye-opening.


	10. Anders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last update for the year! Thank you so much for your continued support, I really enjoy all your feedback <3

Anders eyed the Lithium and Olanzapin with a deep sigh. _Here I am once again_ , he thought with a twisted, grim smile and pushed the pills around, arranging them in pretty patterns on the table while ignoring the whispering in his head. 

And he had thought he had done so well.

“I'm gonna get fat again,” he announced and leaned back, annoyed at himself and annoyed at the pills. God forsaken Olanzapin. By now, he was used to the Lithium that kept him stable and helped him through the day most of the time, but the Olanzapin- “I have it under control, you know. It’s just whispering. I don’t have to-“

“Anders,” Bethany interrupted him very patiently, but there was the same determination in her eyes that Garrett always showed when he was adamant about something. The similarity almost made him smile. “You want to slip again?”

Anders hesitated and looked away because really, sometimes he thought that the manic phases were not that bad. He could still function. He achieved thrice more in these phases than he would in other phases. He was-

A risk for the people he loved. Anders closed his eyes and tried to keep down the memories of his fights with Karl, the things he had said to him, the many times he l had left him, tried to keep down the memories of yelling at Hawke, turning away Isabela, blowing up a car. The whispering grew louder and he focused on it, trying to understand what he was being told. When Bethany placed her soft hand on his, he almost jumped and sought her gaze.

“No,” he said, very softly, still not overly sure but ready to do everything to keep this under control, and reached for the pills. Beth watched him swallow them with a few mouthfuls of water and gently squeezed his hand.

“How about you close the clinic earlier today and we go watch a movie or something?” Sse suggested and he had to smile at that again.

“You don’t have to babysit me all the time, Beth, you know that, right?” he asked and shook his head. “You need more of a social life. What about your friends? You got a new boyfriend yet?”

“Hell, no,” Beth laughed and tied back her dark hair. “I don’t have the time for a relationship and I’m not even sure I want one right now, you know? The last one was so disappointing.”

“I can be nice, though, having someone to come home to,” Anders replied and stood up to gather the plates and glasses from his sink to dump them into the dishwasher. The problem with taking Olanzapin and not being in an acute manic phase was that it did not merely slow him down, but made him downright tired. He could not yet feel the tiredness, but he was determined to ignore the sleepiness for as long as possible. “Also, regular sex with someone who knows what you like and don’t like. That is awesome.”

“Jesus Christ,” Beth laughed and shook her head. “I do have sex from time to time, you know, and I really can’t complain.”

“Hooking up with the same guy every time?”

“Mostly, yes. It’s more being friends with benefits than an actual romantic relationship, you know, even though we kinda like each other.”

“So who is it then?”

“Oh no, I won’t make the same mistake again and tell a friend of Garrett details of my private life,” Beth answered with another laugh before she got up as well, stroking Ser Pounce-a-lot’s fur while doing so. “So, cinema this evening? You’re a little---maybe it would do you good to get out of here for a while, you know? I can ask Garrett if he wants to come with us!”

Anders hesitated because he knew that Bethany should really get some time for herself, meet other people, but she did not seem to mind much to drag him out of the clinic, so he replied slowly, “Sure, why not. You can pick the movie.”

“The new Hugh Jackman movie it is, then!” she exclaimed and was out of the door before Anders could even protest. 

&&&

Anders closed the clinic around seven and barely had time to shower and dress into something nicer than he usually wore before Hawke barged into his apartment.

“Damn it, Anders, is that a fresh, clean shirt and new jeans?” he exclaimed and grinned when Anders threw a rag at him. “No, seriously, you look nice!”

“Thanks,” Anders replied and felt a lot better right away despite the tiredness slowly settling in his bones. To be fair, he always had been a little vain and compliments always brightened his mood if he was not stuck in a deep depression, so he voluntarily swayed his hips to make Hawke laugh and walked out of the apartment- only to stop dead in his tracks when he found himself eye to eye with Fenris. “Are fucking kidding me?”

“Surprise!” Hawke chirped, completely unperturbed by the way Fenris and Anders eyed each other with utter disdain while Bethany sighed and fished for some chewing gum in the pocket of her jacket. “I just thought that we all need a little relaxing, you know, what’s better than watching a movie and some partying afterwards?”

Anders knew this was a bad idea; he was way too restless to deal with Fenris tonight even with the Olanzapin to calm him down and keep the whispering at bay. He was quite aware that he should just walk back into the apartment, probably write another paper and go to sleep afterwards. Instead he found himself grabbing the fancy black coat with black feathers on the shoulders Karl had bought him ages and ages ago and sliding into it. “Let’s go.”

“That was surprisingly easy,” Hawke remarked after a moment, his brown eyes full of wonder. Fenris just snorted and lit a cigarette, only narrowly missing Anders’ face when he blew out the smoke from the first drag. For some reason, Anders could feel a smile stretch over his lips at that and for a moment, he wondered if this was it, the final step for him to slip. 

He was stronger than this. He had his medication, and therapy, and he was stronger than this. He could control it. He could. He could also go on and be at least civil towards Fenris because he was a friend of Hawke and have a nice evening. It was just a pity that he did not dare risk it and drink something because God damn it, if it was anything he needed a stiff drink right now. As it was, alcohol and his medication together was a mixture that was simply too dangerous. 

Perhaps, however, there was a chance to take somebody home with him tonight. It had been such a long while since he had had any action between the sheets that he almost felt like an eunuch. Spending a night with someone he did not particularly care about and therefore could send him away the following morning easily, avoiding them to become forever scarred by putting up with him in a long-term relationship, sounded like something he could actually try to achieve. 

Now if that did not put things into a better perspective, he did not know what did.

“Let’s go, then,” He said cheerily, ignoring Fenris’ scowl and deliberately walking very closely beside Hawke, who eyed him with a smile that was a little careful, but mostly full of being pleasantly surprised. 

He did not look at Bethany. He was too afraid to find concern in her eyes.


	11. CHAPTER ELEVEN: Fenris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't updated in ages and what you get is a shitty filler chapter. I am SO SORRY ;_; I promise that the next chapter will come quicker and be better u.u  
> Thank you all sooo much for your support and all the love this fic gets, I am very happy you all like it so much!

Fenris was pretty sure that it had been a mistake to agree to come with Hawke and his sister- then again, Hawke had conveniently forgotten to tell him about the doctor. It was childish, probably, but the person Anders was, with his problems, made him uncomfortable beyond all measure. It was simple experience and knowledge; he had known people like Anders, had seen what they could do, how they never could be convinced to take any medicine and instead were left to do as they pleased. 

It was childish, probably, Hawke told him so - but he could still feel the scalpel cutting terrifyingly beautiful patterns into his skin until he screamed.

Apparently he had twitched or shown other signs of distress at the thought because Bethany, sweet child that she was, eyed him with concern. Bethany was someone he had strangely enough never seen as a threat; she was a sweet young woman, innocent and gentle. It was no surprise that Hawke tried to protect her at all costs. Maybe it was because she was not a doctor, but a nurse; then again, Hadriana had been a nurse as well and she sometimes had been worse than Danarius. 

He tried to focus on the film, which was hard because Anders sat right next to him. Sometimes he was not sure whether Hawke was forgetful or just plain cruel. Sometimes he was not sure whether Hawke knew himself. The doctor was strangely still, eyes drooping more and more with every second. Fenris watched, probably a bit fascinated, as he slouched deeper and deeper into his chair, until Anders’s head lolled to the side, which strongly indicated that he was fast asleep. Fenris waited a minute to make sure, then he allowed himself a little foolishness and put a piece of popcorn into the v-neckline of Anders’s green shirt. Instead of slapping him in the face, Anders did not even twitch. Fenris found himself grinning, which stopped when Hawke headbutted him into the shoulder.

“Stop being children, Daddy gets a headache from all the fuss,” he whispered and then, “Aw, isn’t that cute. Anders is asleep. Gimme the popcorn.”

Fenris obligingly handed over the popcorn, but found his gaze drawn to the doctor’s sleeping figure. Anders missed the rest of the movie and only jerked awake when the credits started rolling to a blaringly loud, obnoxious song that hurt Fenris’s ears. When they left, he ignored all the looks and hostile murmurs the simple presence of an elf in a cinema caused. It probably was for the best that he was used to them. 

“That movie was so strange, I didn’t understand half of what the protagonist was doing,” Bethany complained and was loudly supported by Hawke, while Fenris only grunted. Anders, however, did not say a single thing, which was rather strange, since he had not missed a single opportunity to loudly voice his opinions about every available topic so far. Fenris watched him from the corner of his eyes and cursed him for getting his attention, cursed him for being there and looking like a hairy monkey with too-long arms and bloodshot eyes, ridiculous black feathers heaped upon his shoulders in the vain effort to make him look a bit less like a monkey. 

“-representation of the elves was horrifying, right, Fenris?” he heard Hawke say and so turned his head towards him to answer, “It always is because that is how this society works. Humans view us as dirty, stupid animals and that is how we are portrayed.”

“It’s gonna change,” Hawke said with that confidence Fenris loved so much about him. “Right, Anders?”

Anders blinked once, slowly, then said, “Huh?”

“It’s gonna change,” Hawke repeated gently, “The representation of elves, I mean. Don’t you think so too?”

“I guess,” Anders said softly, gaze focused on the cobblestones underneath his feet. He smiled when Bethany looped their arms together and Fenris narrowed his eyes when he saw Anders lean on her for a bit. 

“Glad to have that settled for the moment, then,” Hawke answered with a broad grin and clapped his hands. “So - Hanged Man for us now, then? I’m sure Isabela and Merrill are waiting for us there already...if they’re not too busy banging each other, I mean. I think we all could use a drink after that movie - except you, Beth, you’re too young. And Anders, I know you didn’t see much of the movie - which is totally fine, by the way, you didn’t miss much -, but you can drink too. Just because.”

Fenris snorted while Bethany loudly complained that she was not a child anymore and not even underage. “I could not care less for them, but I’m always up for a glass of wine.”  
“I think I better head home,” Anders said with an apologetic smile. “I’m pretty tired and wouldn’t be any fun anyways.”

Hawke did not try to hold him when Bethany nodded and wished him a good night. Fenris did not say anything and apparently Anders expected nothing else. When he disappeared into the night, Fenris stared after him until Hawke told him to follow - and follow Hawke he did, always. 

*****  
Fenris did not always drink himself into a stupor, but when he did he knew what he was doing. It therefore came as no surprise to him that he had no idea where he was when he woke up the next day, groaning and holding his pounding head. The place certainly was not the abandoned, haunted house he had claimed as his own a while ago (the only thing that house was haunted by was himself, but he had nothing against the stories about the Lyrium Ghost who ripped out the hearts of everyone daring to come close to the mansion).

Only after a moment in which he contemplated committing suicide to escape the thundering in his head he noticed the cats. 

They were all curled around him in one way or another and they all stared at him, unblinking. Fenris frowned, ears twitching, but it was to no avail; the cats were not intimidated in the slightest, which was rather unfortunate. The thing that really got him, however, and almost made him snarl in surprise, was the curled-up figure on the floor, half-hidden by blanket. Anders directly looked at him, eyes soft and sleepy and his long hair falling loose around his head. He did not say anything and for a moment, they just stared at each other until Fenris decided to stumble from the couch he had been at. Almost immediately he regretted his decision since the room started spinning around him and so he decided promptly to sit down on the floor, directly beside Anders. 

“What the fuck happened?” he groaned when he finally stopped feeling as if he had to throw up every second. Anders blinked sluggishly, then shrugged.

“You broke into my house and crashed on the couch,” he answered slowly, “I didn’t care, so I did nothing.”

Fenris stared at him. Anders closed his eyes and breathed evenly, perhaps a bit too deeply, which caused Fenris to frown. “Do you have any aspirin or something?”

“Bathroom,” Anders murmured, adding after a moment, “‘Course I do, I’m a doctor, you walnut.”

Fenris snorted, but since Anders’s words had no heat in them, he decided to let the comment slip and instead headed into the bathroom that he fortunately still remembered from the one time they had decided to play cards at Anders’s place. 

What he had not seen back then, however, were the dozens of pill boxes that stared at him like the milky eyes of a sleeping giant when he opened the bathroom mirror.


	12. Anders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's time for another chapter here, sorry for the delay - I will never get the hang out of updating regularly, I am sorry. u.u Thank you all so much for your new/continued support, you all make me very happy!

Footsteps, heavy and confident. Hawke. Fenris’s steps were light and almost inaudible. With closed eyes, Anders watched. When big arms wrapped themselves around him, trying to pull him up, he went without protest. Easier that way. His eyelids were heavy and threatened to drop again; he was tempted to let them. Instead, he forced his eyes open. 

“What do you want?” he asked, defeated in the sight of Hawke’s gentle smile, defeated in the way Hawke hauled him up and onto the couch where he carefully arranged the blankets around him again. Anders wanted to thank him for all the unnecessary help, but words were heavy enough to die on his tongue. Instead, he snuggled deeper into the blankets in the vain hope of escaping the cold that sat deep in his bones. 

“I want you to drink that cup of tea,” Hawke told him, so Anders extended his hands, closed them around the mug and drank. He burned his tongue a little, but he barely noticed, drinking slowly and sip by sip. It was one of the cups Karl had bought when they moved into their first apartment together, he noticed; there was a small chip at the rim where Anders had dropped it in hopes of cracking it completely after one of their fights. Now he traced the chip, traced the rim, closed his eyes and tried to chase the love with which Karl had bought this cup for them, for their life together. How was it that he usually thought of Karl when he was his worst? What a gentle man he had been, what a patient husband.

Anders traced the rim again. His eyes stayed dry. 

“Eat,” Hawke told him a while later, so Anders set the cup aside, carefully, before he extended his hands and took the plate that was offered to him, two slices of bread with butter and cheese on it. He ate. Every bite seemed more difficult to make, but he swallowed, and swallowed some more, the food tasting like ashes in his mouth. What was he now, the genius medic? A mere shadow, dependant on people taking care of him like a child. A joke of a man, even less whole than the cup beside him. 

“No more,” he murmured after finishing the first slice of bread, feeling even more useless than before. What was he that he could not even fulfill Hawke’s simple instructions? With a deep sigh, he tried to curl up a bit tighter. “Leave me alone. I want to be alone.”

“In a while,” Hawke promised softly and patted his head, giant hand like a paw. Anders closed his eyes and felt the warmth. When Hawke left the room, his eyes stayed closed. Another weight settled down next to him, shifting irritably every now and then.

“This is ridiculous, human,” Fenris finally said, the same irritation that showed in his movements showing in his voice as well. “Stop lying around like this. You’re wasting everyone’s time. I am fairly certain that you have patients to tend to - wouldn’t that be a much better way to spend your time on than this?”

“I can’t,” Anders murmured and tried to pull the blanket over his head. The light pierced through his eyelids, hurt his eyes. “Lights off.”

“Hawke cannot see in the dark and he chose to take care of you,” Fenris snapped. “Get up, Anders. Being like this is pathetic, even for you.”

“Sorry,” Anders said with a sigh and sunk deeper into the blankets, desperately wishing for Fenris to just disappear.

“That doesn’t help at all, Fenris,” Hawke said with a quiet laughter. There was some mumbling for a moment; with closed eyes, Anders listened to Fenris’s deep, embarrassingly comforting rumble and Hawke’s answers before he could hear Hawke’s footsteps leaving the rom once more. When they did not return for quite a while, he finally managed to dig himself out of the blanket enough to be able to take a look. However, there was only Fenris, staring at the photos on Anders’s mantle piece with an unreadable expression. His body was strung with tension - it almost always was; Anders was not even that surprised when Fenris suddenly jumped up and began clearing the table with angry, jerky motions, as if he was struggling against the chore, yet somehow unable to leave it be at the same time. 

“Where’s Hawke?” Anders asked and Fenris’s head whipped around. For a moment, they stared at each other; Anders resisted the urge to burrow himself deeper into the blanket again.

“He left to get some groceries for you, since your fridge is, apparently, pretty empty,” Fenris finally answered, “It’s going to be just the two of us for a while.”

“Great,” Anders sighed, closed his eyes and drew the blanket over his face. 

“You’re going to suffocate if you keep this up,” Fenris remarked before he added after a moment of consideration, “Not that it would not please me, but Hawke will not be happy about it.”

“Hm,” Anders said and stayed as he was. However, he did not protest when the blanket was lifted a little to uncover his face, either. Green eyes peeked at him with utter disapproval. The white lines on Fenris’s throat danced when he spoke. Anders watched them and did not understand a word, probably because he was not listening at all. Eventually, Fenris stopped speaking. For a moment, they just sat there together. It was bizarre, this moment of peace born from utter detachment on Anders’s side and strange, utterly strange motives for his behavior on Fenris’s side.

“Who is that?” Fenris asked after a while. It was not his voice that made Anders open the eyes that had slipped shut again in the meantime. It was a movement of his hand; he followed the direction it pointed in and gripped the blanket a little tighter when he saw that Fenris meant the photo of his wedding. 

“My husband, Karl,” he said, too tired to ask why Fenris was even interested in that bit of information. Fenris was quiet again, obviously studying the photo. What was he concentrating on?, Anders wondered. Was it the white dress he had worn, the one Karl had specifically ordered for him, only laughing when Anders had pointed out that _really, Karl, I shouldn’t wear white, I’m far from an innocent virgin_? Was it Karl’s beautiful, quiet smile, the one that had produced small, tender wrinkles around his lips and crow’s feet around his eyes, signs of age filled with mirth? The picture had been taken on one of the better days, one of the best days; it was so easy to look at it and forget all the horrible days they had had, the angst, the tears, the sorrow. In the end, it had all been his fault and Anders knew it well, the familiar weight of guilt crushing down on his shoulders.

“Where is he now?” Fenris asked and turned his head towards Anders. 

“Dead,” Anders said, which did not really answer Fenris’s question, if he was honest with himself. Was Karl at the side of the Maker? Was he simply bones on a graveyard, buried under marble and flowers? “I want to believe that he is at the side of the Maker. He believed in that.”

“And you do not?” Fenris asked. It was the most civil conversation they had had so far, at least Anders could recall no other. 

“I don’t know,”he said, too sad to be anything else beside honest, “It is hard to believe in anything, these days. I didn’t really...My parents were quite religious, you know, especially my father. When my bipolarity broke out, the first manic phase in my life, he thought I was possessed by a demon and sent me into permanent care of an asylum. He thought they would cure me there.” Anders laughed with a throat that was too tight, too raw. “The sad thing about it is that after everything that happened to me in my life, I almost wish they would have succeeded.”


	13. Fenris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who's back after ages with a new chapter! :D I am terribly sorry,my dearest readers, but RL kept me busy in the last months...however, I hope the new chapter makes up for the long wait, at least a bit!   
> Enjoy <3

Fenris was not used to having to handle people in distress. Danarius never had been in distress; he had been perfectly composed all the time, superior to everyone, immune to weaknesses. Anders, however, was the epitome of weaknesses. He was laughable, curled up on the couch with so much pain in his eyes when he spoke about his dead husband, with so much tiredness in the lines on his face when he stared into space.

It made Fenris want to do something. He was unused to that either, and he was not sure if he liked it as well.

With a grunt, he shifted his weight from one foot to the other before he got up from the sofa and grabbed Anders’ hands. “Come with me. We’re going to take a walk after you had a shower. Just a short one - Hawke surely will already be back when we are done.”

“I don’t want to,” Anders murmured and made no intention to follow Fenris’ lead, so Fenris tugged harder. Even though the human was a tall person, he was a light weight and presented no challenge for him. Eventually, Anders simply had to get up, and he did, sighing deeply as he was on his feet. “I don’t want to shower.”

“And I don’t want to be forced to smell your unwashed body,” Fenris replied, which was probably a little unfair because if there was one thing Anders did right, it was smelling nicely despite working with dozens of people every day - then again, Fenris did not particularly care about being sensitive towards Anders. As he was dragging Anders into the bathroom, he could not help but notice how soft the man’s hair was when it brushed Fenris’ shoulder. It was an unsettling, alien thought; Fenris never really thought about other people’s appearances, less so about the appearance of people he did not like. Anders was not even really attractive, at least not in the conventional way. HIs nose was too long, his jaw was too sharp and the general features of his face did not seem to fit together - yet they did, creating a face that should be hideous and instead had its own, unique charm and handsomeness. It was utterly baffling. 

Anders was quiet as he sat him down on the edge of the bathtub in which a shower was installed as well. For a moment, he studied the man who sat sunken down into himself, shoulders hunched forward and eyes half-closed, before him and hesitated. “You could also take a bath, if you have a tub.”

Anders shrugged. His passiveness drove Fenris up the wall, but there was a part of him that remembered Hawke’s words and explanation and made him inhale deeply instead of yelling at the idiot physician. “Shower then.” Could he be sure that Anders would manage to undress himself? Probably not. Sometimes Fenris wondered if he was still chained to Danarius, still under the influence of his training to be good, to serve. Was it out of that reason he chose to lift Anders’ shirt over his head and toss it into one of the corners? The thought made him pause and nervously chew on his lower lip, feeling the metal ring in it bitter on his tongue. Anders was thin underneath the layers he wore, thin and tall and sinewy. Something told Fenris that he had to have been a gangly, awkward teenager, possibly with more of the freckles strewn over his shoulders like copper coins in his strange face. “You should do that yourself.”

“Yes,” Anders muttered and finally some life came into him, even though his movements were slow and uninspired when he started to slide out of the pants he wore. His underwear followed soon after. Fenris turned his gaze away and cleared his throat, busying himself with turning on the shower and making sure that the water was neither too hot nor too cold.

“There,” he finally said, taking back a step. “Get in, scrub yourself, I’ll find you something new to wear.”

He did not wait for Anders’ response and breezed past by him before he could reconsider his own choices. What was he doing? He still did not know, only that it was surprisingly easy to get lost in the bustle of several small tasks merging together. Fenris found Anders’ bedroom and hesitated a second before he threw the curtain aside and went in. It was a small, surprisingly cozy room, the even more surprisingly big bed a mess in which all three of Anders’ cats were curled up in furry balls and watched him with bright, glowing eyes. Fenris returned their stare for a moment before he opened the wardrobe and looked for something Anders could wear. It made him aware of the fact that it was entirely in his power to find something nice; Anders would most likely not even complain if he came back with rags for him to wear. The thought let Fenris relax a little more and after a moment of consideration, he picked a simple shirt with a print on it as well as one of Anders’ briefs and jeans. There was cat hair all over the place, but there was nothing Fenris could or would want to do against that, so he just took the clothes and went back into the living room. 

When the shower was still running after fifteen more minutes, Fenris groaned, got up and moved the bathroom curtain aside. Anders stood underneath the water with closed eyes, not moving whatsoever; he was entirely useless, even more so than usual. “You are impossible,” Fenris commented and tried not to let his gaze wander over Anders’ form, but he barely could restrain himself, too fascinated with Anders’ thin, sinewy body that clearly showed signs of him not eating regularly. A few seconds long Fenris’ eyes even lingered on Anders’ manhood, an impressive part between his legs, nestled in fine, golden curls. For a moment, he wondered if they were as soft as they looked, but the thought let shame creep into his heart and slight redness into his cheeks. Anders had no right to let him feel ashamed. After all, there was nothing he had done wrong. Growling with frustration, Fenris stepped forward, turned off the water and fetched a towel. Anders stumbled out of the shower when he forcefully tugged his arm and started to mechanically dry himself off when Fenris threw the towel at him. 

When he came back after having left to get Anders’ clothes for a few minutes, the man lifted his head for the first time to really look at him, hair a wet, stringy mess around his head. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice as tired and rough as when he had talked to Hawke earlier. 

Fenris grunted and avoided his gaze, not sure how to respond until he finally answered, “Well, you don’t do it yourself, do you. You’re entirely useless.”

“I know,” Anders said, still making no move to dress himself until Fenris nudged him so that he pulled the shirt over his head. “But you don’t have to make sure that I take a shower or….or go outside with me to take a walk. You hate me...why are you doing this?”

“I do it for Hawke,” Fenris snapped, mostly because it was the easiest, most comfortable answer. “Why do you even care about my reasons? Be happy I am here to help you. Now get dressed, I’ll wait outside.”

Anders did not object and Fenris did not give him time to do so, turning around and leaving the bathroom to wait in the living room. As he was sitting down on the sofa without a second thought, he lit a cigarette and took a deep drag to calm down. It was an entirely bizarre situation, Anders was right about that. It was also a situation that Fenris did not know how to change. Something made him stay, against knowing better and against disliking everything Anders stood for, everything he made him remember. Maybe it was wanting to repay a debt he had ever since Anders had patched him up weeks ago; this certainly would have been an explanation he could live with. 

He looked up when Anders shuffled out of the bathroom like a giant, half-sleeping monkey, causing him to put out the cigarette and get up, leading Anders to his shoes and making sure that the physician stepped into them. “We’re taking a walk.”

“Just a few minutes?” Anders asked with something that sounded like hope in his voice, so Fenris nodded against better judgement. His breath hitched in his throat in surprise and he almost punched Anders, only catching himself in the last moment, when Anders suddenly squeezed his hand lightly, amber eyes full of gratefulness when Fenris' eyes met his gaze. “Thank you, Fenris. You are very kind, I don’t know why, but...thank you all the same.”

“Stop it, human,” Fenris growled, ears heating up in strange embarrassment. He tugged Anders out on the street before he could reconsider, finding strange appeal in getting Anders on the move. Maybe it was not so bad to spend time with the physician - maybe there was some hope for Hawke’s band after all.


	14. Merrill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd here we are again with a new chapter! Thank you all so much for your lovely support <3

“Don’t you think that Anders seems to be different than usual?” Merrill asked Isabela, standing on her tiptoes to be able to see Anders over the crowd of people dividing them. Anders had offered to get them drinks along with Fenris, which had been a small miracle all of its own. Then again, things between them seemed to be different than before, at least they had not gone against each other’s throat in a while now. Maybe it was because Anders was slowly recovering from the rather bad emotional spot he had been in some weeks ago and thus a bit more amenable than usual, but somehow Merrill doubted that this was the only reason. From the way Isabela watched Anders and Fenris argue over something at the noisy beverage cart with shining eyes, she seemed to think the same.

“Maybe they banged,” she suggested, sliding an arm around Merrill’s waist and throwing a sharp smile at the human guy watching Merrill with a funny look. She and Fenris were a minority even at this open-air festival, but she tried not to think about it too much; today, she wanted to be just happy and not think of how other people looked at her pointy ears poking out from the large straw hat with small, white daisies dotted along the rim; it had been a rather thoughtful gift of Varric, and she adored the hat very much even though Isabela liked to complain that she had to lean down and duck out of the wide rim’s way to be able to kiss Merrill properly.

“I don’t think so,” Merrill said after a while of more observation. “They barely touch each other, and Anders likes touching people. I think it’s because Fenris helped him while he was sad. Didn’t Hawke tell us that he dragged him outside for a short walk every day?”

“He still does, only Anders comes along willingly by now,” Isabela answered and laughed, correcting the position of her blue bandana with an elegant gesture. She was wearing scandalously short, white jeans hot pants today and an equally white top with thin straps and golden sequins forming waves along the lower seam. Her hands were adorned with at least seven or eight golden rings, some simple, some adorned with gems or diamonds glinting in the sun. Golden hoops in her ears and a golden chain with a small locket on it completed the outfit. At the sight of the locket Merrill smiled once more because she knew that a tiny, dried daisy rested in it; the first flower Merrill had picked for the other woman after their first night spent together as an official couple. “I tell ya, boys are so weird sometimes.”

“Or maybe it’s just Fenris and Anders,” Merrill said and looked down at her toes. She had painted her toenails red, which proved to be a wise decision since she had decided to wear her flip flops adorned with small daisies today; usually she walked barefooted, but Isabela was right when she warned about inconsiderate humans tight on space and slightly to heavily inebriated, as was the cause at a festival. She admired Fenris for ignoring the advice and not giving a fuck about shoes even here, glaring at Hawke when he had even so much as tried to suggest reconsidering it. At least the flip flops matched her high-waisted, navy-blue hot pants which had a bit more length than Isabela’s and went along nicely with her white, quite light blouse. Isabela had picked her jewelry and wrapped several thin, elegant gold chains around her neck before putting two golden studs with a small diamond in their center into her earholes. Merrill felt pretty, which always helped, and she felt happy and excited at the prospect of good music. “The thought of us maybe playing at a festival like this is amazing, don’t you think so, Bela?”

“I’m not sure you’ll ever manage to get a bit of structure into your songs,” Aveline mentioned as she appeared beside them. She had tied her fiery red hair into a ponytail, which made Merrill smile because Aveline talked endlessly about getting a shorter haircut, but never found the time. By now, Merrill would not have been surprised to see her friend finally snap and cut her hair with a kitchen scissor, even though that was not really Aveline’s style. What was her style, however, were the practical, black pants that reached to her knees and the white cotton blouse along with the slightly worn-off, but well-kept sneakers she wore. There was no jewelry, but she had applied a bit of rosy lip gloss, which was unlike her and probably due to the fact that she was accompanied by Donnic, her rather attractive and nice co-worker. Or was it called co-soldier? Either way, Merrill was happy to see that Aveline seemed to have found someone new to love after her husband’s death. She was such a fiercely loyal, deeply loving person, and letting go of someone was especially hard for that sort of person. Out of a whim, Merrill felt the urge to hug her, and so she did, causing Aveline to laugh a little in surprise before she hugged her back, quick but warm. “Where’s Hawke?”

“Over there, with Varric,” Merrill pointed out and looked over to where Varric and Hawke were standing in the open sun, animatedly talking to a human guy with huge sunglasses and a polo shirt. Sweat was glinting visibly on Hawke’s skin, darkening the short hair in his neck a little and causing him to repeatedly rub his forehead. Hawke was a bear of a man, giant and bearded and built like a wrestler, and were it not for his easy smile and outgoing demeanor, people would probably cower in fear all the time. As it was, they were only afraid when Hawke got angry, and they had a reason to be afraid at these times. “They’re socializing, or something, to make the band a little more well-known.”

“I told them not to do that without me – first, they want me as their manager and then they just do everything on their own!” Aveline muttered and shook her head in displeasure; Merrill was too busy looking at the tiny, dark freckles all over her nose and cheeks to be nervous. “If Donnic comes over looking for me, please tell him where I am.”

She was gone before Merrill could give an affirmative answer, finding her way through the crowd with secure, firm steps and broad shoulders. When Isabela was in a mean mood, she sometimes called Aveline “a war machine built like a man with tiny tits”, but Merrill rather liked Aveline’s build, even though it was quite different from Isabela’s. As her lover wrapped her arms around Merrill, Fenris and Anders had finally managed to get drinks and came over, each of them holding two bottles in their hands, of which three were beers. Merrill was given the fourth bottle and as she took a small sip, the sweet taste of apple cider filled her mouth. It tasted of summer, of festival, and she leaned a little more into Isabela’s embrace. Even Fenris was calm and apparently at ease for the moment; the always present tension in his shoulders had loosened a little and a small smile was lifting one of the corners of his mouth upwards, giving him a cute, crooked smile. Anders talked more than he had some days before, talked about unimportant, small things, but he had showered and his hair was tied into a messy bun, his green shirt with golden applications was clean and somewhat matched his brown pants and he wore fitting shoes, even though said shoes were crocs that caused Isabela to gasp in horror.

“So, the sound here is good, right?” Anders said and gestured towards the stage where a new, yet unknown band had started a new song. It had a catchy tune and the singer was a long-haired girl with soft, dreamy eyes. Merrill found herself tapping her feet against the floor in the rhythm of the music and Isabela hummed. “See, the sound’s good, but we can still add something unique to the mix, you know, something that’s special for the kind of music we want to produce. Aveline always says that we need a concept, but I don’t think we do – everything we do ends in chaos, why not let our music be chaotic as well? Chaos can mean creativity, production, life – sex is chaos, life is chaos, emotions are chaos. Why not let this be the same?”

“Just let it flow,” Isabela agreed with a dazzling smile and a nod. “Besides, we don’t have to earn money with music. Every single one of us has their income, more or less I mean, so what? We can do this for fun. Just let it flow and all that shit. Right, Merrill?” She placed a soft kiss behind the shell of Merrill’s left ear, which let Merrill shudder with slight excitement. The kiss felt like summer and deep affection; she could feel Isabela’s sticky lipstick on her skin, but made no move to rub it away, instead curling her toes deeper into the ground.

“Just let it flow is good,” she said, ignoring the way Anders rolled his eyes at that. Fenris grunted a little, taking a sip from his beer. It was funny how he would always chug down his wine in deep swallows, as if he wanted it gone as fast as possible, while he savored beer quietly for a while, drinking it sip after sip over a longer period, hands closed around the bottle. She had never seen him drink anything alcoholic from a can, unlike Anders, who usually ate and drank what was available at the moment. Merrill looked at them, at the way Fenris hunched his shoulders forward when he spoke, piercing green eyes cast downward every so often before he noticed and made a point to look directly into his counterpart’s face; she looked at the way Anders hid one of his hands in the pocket of his pants while he talked, eyes wandering here and there not in the quick, jumpy manner he got when there was too much on his mind, but lazier, his gaze resting every so often at Fenris’ face like a thirsty man at an oasis; she looked at the way Isabela held her while she talked with the boys, hand warm and secure on Merrill’s hips, gold glinting on her hands and neck and ears and face, gold in her voice whenever she talked. Music flowed over them in gentle, gentle waves; Merrill listened, and watched, and moved in the rhythm, toes curling deeper into the ground.


	15. Anders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am truly sorry for the long wait and I am truly sorry that I am delivering a truly insignificant chapter, but...at least it's an update? The next one gets better, I promise.

“See, it’s not much different from each other,” Anders explained while his finger carefully danced along the violin’s bow. Somehow their usual walks that had become a habit during and after Anders’ depressive phase had turned into some sort of jam sessions every now and then. Sometimes Fenris would slip into the clinic and quietly stay there in the background. When he saw that Anders would most likely be busy, he mostly slunk away again; sometimes, he stayed and helped a little with awkward motions and an almost shy expression whenever some of the elves thanked him. And sometimes, as it was the case that day, Anders would manage to close the clinic a little earlier, which caused them to end up in his small apartment. “A guitar you stroke directly, whereas a violin needs a more indirect approach. It’s just like with people, you know?”

Fenris only grunted in response, but his eyes followed Anders’ movements in apparent attention. When Anders gently slid the bow along the violin’s strings, his pointy ears visibly perked up. “That is a fine instrument, way too expensive for someone like you. I remember seeing violins like this one at Danarius’ house...he collected expensive things to get the admiration from people grovelling before him.”

“Well, I got mine from Karl,” Anders said and shrugged slightly before lifting the violin onto his shoulder to play it more earnestly. “It was a gift for my graduation from university. By then, I had been learning how to play the violin for more than five years, so… I have to admit that it was a rather expensive gift, though.”

“Danarius sometimes bought me expensive things,” Fenris said after a long while in which Anders forlornly played the violin, slowly coming to a halt when Fenris started to speak. “They were not for me. In the end, presents one buys for their pets is for the owner’s pleasure alone. Cats and dogs don’t care about fancy collars - they remain collars all the same. I didn’t see that back then.” When he took a deep, shuddering breath, Anders’ eyes stayed focused on Fenris’ tightly clenched fists, the way he had lowered his head a little as if in submission. “I didn’t want to...He told me he loved me and I wanted to believe him, because...he was my whole world. There was nobody else.” Another deep breath before he added, “I cannot imagine getting presents out of love, without any expectation of getting something back.”

“I was lucky,” Anders said quietly, slowly stroking the violin with gentle motions. “Karl was a good man, way better than I deserved.” Sighing deeply, he ran a hand through his hair and put the violin aside to stretch himself a little. “I’ll make us some tea.”

“I’d rather have something stronger,” Fenris muttered and sighed as well. “But I suppose you still don’t have any alcohol in that tiny kitchen of yours.”

“Nope,” Anders called from the kitchen and set up a pot of hot water. “Trying to drink away your problems doesn’t help, it’s only making it worse.”

“Hot water doesn’t help much either,” Fenris said. Throwing a look over his shoulder, Anders saw him curling up tightly on the floor next to the couch before he stopped, uncurled and slowly climbed onto the couch, a satisfied expression on his face. By now Anders had slowly begun to understand him a little better, to understand why sometimes Fenris seemed to learn proper behavior all over again. When he came back into the living room with two cups and the teapot on a tray, Fenris had begun to slowly stroke Ser Pounce-a-lot, who had curled himself up against Fenris’ chest in a majestic display of dominance over Anders’ couch, and his green eyes flitted towards Anders’s smiling face, daring him to say anything about that. Anders only grinned and set the tray down onto the coffee table.

“It’s pretty late already,” he remarked and was not sure why he felt so awkward all of a sudden, “You wanna stay the night? I could, you know, give you a cushion and a blanket and you could sleep on the couch.”

Fenris hummed a little before he closed his eyes. “I’ve gone home at a later time than that. Why the sudden concern?”

“I’m definitely not concerned about you, I’m just saying that if you want to stay the night, you can. I’ll be over there in the other room, sleeping. Nobody’s gonna bother you and...stuff.”

“Stuff,” Fenris repeated and growled at the cat when Ser Pounce-a-lot clawed him a little when he got up and jumped down to walk over towards Anders. “I don’t know. I usually don’t sleep at foreign places if I can help it.”

“Dude, if I wanted to kill you I’d already have done so,” Anders remarked with a raised brow while he stroked Ser Pounce’s fur. Fenris only grunted and kept his eyes closed; after a while, he silently nodded and opened his eyes to sit up. “I can borrow you some pajamas and I think I have a spare toothbrush for you as well.”

“That would be nice,” Fenris agreed, “Even though a simple shirt should be enough - I usually sleep naked.”

“You can do that here as well,” Anders pointed out and found himself grinning. Was this flirting? He was not sure; it had been a while since he had pursued somebody and his relationship with Fenris was difficult at best. Despite of Anders’ assumptions, Fenris only snorted and shook his head. 

“Get me a shirt, Anders,” he ordered and Anders found himself obliging. He wandered into his bedroom and rummaged around in his closet until he found something he could spare. It would be too big for Fenris, but that was just as well. When he came back, Fenris eyed the pink shirt with utter disdain, enough to cause his ears to flutter with dismay. Nevertheless, he took it and started to undress, flinging his shirt over and unbuckling his belt. Anders tried not to look too closely, but he could not help himself. When Fenris had been his patient, it had been something different; a patient never had a sexual appeal for him, but now… Fenris was lean, yet strong and the white lines and swirls on his body gave him a strangely alluring appeal. He wondered if Fenris ever thought something good about them. 

People had hurt him so much. He did not even realize that he was gently patting Fenris’ shoulder until the elf looked up with confusion and not a small portion of mistrust in his eyes. Anders had been right: The shirt was too long for him and he looked softer than usual, his sharp angles and features hidden by the fabric. There was the need to apologize somewhere deep down in Anders; he thought of Karl and tried to remember his gentle smile, tried to show one of his own, tried to find the right words.

“I’ll get you a toothbrush and a towel,” he said instead and fled into the bathroom. Keeping busy was good for him; if he was busy enough, nothing could hurt him, not the pills, not himself, not everyone else. If he was busy enough, he could pretend that everything was fine, that he was fine, at least almost. Taking a deep breath, he startled when Fenris suddenly stood in the bathroom next to him and took the towel and toothbrush out of Anders’ hands. For a single moment, their eyes met; something fluttered in Anders’ chest, something small and unimportant, yet truly noticeable in its own simplicity. Anders took a deep breath and wrung his hands into the seam of his shirt. Fenris watched him for a long, long time, his gaze dark and strangely intent before he suddenly lowered his eyes as if in shame.

“Thank you,” he murmured and brushed past Anders as he walked towards the bathroom sink. Something warm tingled in the skin he had touched; Anders took another deep breath.

“You’re welcome,” he said and smiled, this time for real.


	16. Fenris

There was something strange about waking up at a place he was not used to, something that made him pause and look around for a moment. Merrill was right when she remarked that he sometimes slept on the streets, cramped in one dark corner or the other and refusing to listen to the screams of the world, but that was something different altogether – when he slept on the streets, he was just another elf that had not been able to make it and was slowly decaying while still being alive. Nobody looked at these elves, nobody even slowed their steps for such an elf, nobody spared a thought or looked too closely and found an elf with white scars all over his body in beautiful, enchantingly beautiful swirling patterns. When he slept inside at another place, however, he had to be careful, had to think whether it was safe to sleep or whether there had been no other choice than stay where he was.

It was different with this night.

He had chosen to stay at Anders’ place, doing so out of his own will. There had been nothing that would have had kept him from going home, but he had decided to give in to his laziness and crash at Anders’ couch. Why he had done so, he could not properly say. Anders’ couch was not even really comfortable; one could feel the years it had been used, years that caused it to creak at every twist and turn Fenris’ body had done in the night. Usually, he slept lightly, but utterly quietly. Hawke had once remarked on how scary it was that Fenris never so much as even twitched in his sleep and Fenris had decided to not tell him that it was mostly because he had been drilled to sleep as quietly as possible so as to not wake Danarius, who had always had trouble with sleeping.

It seemed as if it was the same with Anders. His tossing and turning and whimpering through the night an through the flimsy curtain that was his excuse for a door between the bedroom and the living room had kept Fenris awake for quite a good amount of the night. It also had caused him to reconsider some of the choices he had made in life so far and it further had caused him to stare blankly at the pictures on Anders’ wall for a good amount of time. He had thought about Anders’ late husband as well; what a patient man he had to have been. Anders only ever painted him in the brightest of colors, his voice shattered into tiny pieces by old pain. It made something inside Fenris twist with equally shattering pain, but for what he was mourning he could not say. Perhaps it was simple jealousy. Perhaps it was something different altogether. 

Altogether, it had not been the most pleasant of nights, which was probably why he felt like a crumpled piece of paper when he slid off the couch and found his way into the bathroom, where a gaze into the mirror and his own, slightly bloodshot eyes confirmed his feeling. There was nothing to do about it; at least, it had not been the most horrible night he had ever had, not by far. And what would have been the alternative? He would have curled up on his mattress of a bed that was not really his, in a house that was not really his, because slaves did not possess things and they certainly had no place to call their own. Sometimes it was so hard to distinguish between the person Danarius had wanted him to be and the person he tried to be that he gave it up altogether. 

He tried not to. It was just that sometimes it was easier than trying to pick apart the traits that were his and the ones that he only believed to be his. 

With a displeased grunt about himself, Fenris splashed some water onto his face and enjoyed the coldness washing over his skin, prickling along the scars etched into his forehead and chin until he rubbed himself dry again with a surprisingly fluffy pink towel. There was a cat on it, which was not very surprising. There also was another cat curled up in the bathing tub, watching him with skeptical green eyes that did not blink, even as Fenris openly stared back. It was a bad sign that he had already learned to distinguish Anders’ cats by their looks and knew all their names, therefore knowing as well that it was Lady Give-me-meow that was looking at him in that exact moment. The cats were ridiculous, just like Anders himself, but thinking of the mattress that was his in a bedframe that was not and thinking of waking up alone at a place that was not his own caused Fenris to believe that he probably knew why Anders was so fond of the animals. It was interesting, really, how the physician managed to take care of them so well. Danarius had never taken care of anything but himself. Instead, he had taught people how to cater to his needs, all of them and sometimes all of them at once, and then he had punished them when they had forgotten to think for him. Fenris shivered and found himself in need of warmth.

When he left the bathroom, he found Anders standing in the middle of the living room. Sleep was still gripping him a little too tight and made him look older, more haggard and crumpled than usual, yet also strangely fragile, like an ugly baby bird that had fallen out of its nest. There was something in Fenris’ throat that tried to leap out of it, pulsing underneath his fingertips just so when he let them brush over his own Adam’s apple. 

“Your couch is a nightmare,” he said and watched Anders rub his eyes with the gesture of a child before a slow smile spread over his lips. In the cold light of morning, his mussed hair looked like a stormy halo around his face.

“Life is a nightmare,” he said and smiled a little broader. Fenris frowned a little.

“Why are you smiling while you say things like that?”

“You probably won’t like the answer.”

“Try me.”

Anders looked at him for a long while before he sighed softly. “Because it’s nice to not wake up alone, I guess. Because it’s nice to see a familiar face in the morning, even if it is your face and even if you growl at me like you’re doing right now.”

Fenris stopped growling. “I don’t growl.”

Anders laughed at that and headed into the kitchen. Fenris followed his halo of hair and watched Anders’ naked toes that were slightly too long as they tapped against the tile floor. Anders was opening kitchen boards and taking out things, opening the fridge and taking out things, putting things into other things before stirring them while he hummed a tune Fenris did not recognize. It almost seemed as if Anders was lost in his own world, yet at the same time he left place for Fenris to fit in, moving around him in fluent motions, handing him this and that, telling him what to do with it, making him part of the progress and ignoring Fenris’ awkwardness. There was something about the entire scene that caused Fenris’ heart to flutter in a strange way. He had no idea if Anders noticed. The physician was good with people, that much Fenris knew, but he was not sure whether Anders was only good with them when he listened carefully or if it was something that was born from his instinct. 

Fenris was not good with people, not really, which was okay because most people were not good with him, either. He was not sure if Anders was good with him. Sometimes he was, and sometimes he was not. Maybe that was how things were. Maybe Fenris was too harsh, too quick to judge in some cases. Maybe the best thing to do was to be happy that Anders tried his best to understand him and that he tried his best to keep himself in check despite his mental illness. 

“I have been unkind to you,” he heard himself say.

Anders stopped working on whatever he intended to serve them for breakfast – pancakes, maybe, or at least it had the potential of becoming pancakes one day – and turned his head to look at him for a long moment. He did not ask about the exact moment where Fenris had been unkind to him. He did not ask why Fenris suddenly felt inclined to tell him that he had been unkind. What he said instead was, “I haven’t been exactly charming towards you, either. It’s quite alright, I can understand where you come from.”

“I do not believe you can,” Fenris said, unable to help himself. 

Anders sighed and put a pan onto the stove to heat it up before he cleaned his hands with a kitchen towel and tucked his hair into a messy bun he bound together with a piece of blue string he found on one of the counters. “I don’t understand where you come from _exactly_ , but I understand nevertheless. You think I never generalized in my life? You think I’ve never been unkind towards people? I didn’t like you, Fenris, I really didn’t, and that was mostly because…well, because I knew what you think of me and you were unkind. So I was unkind as well. There is no need to apologize – sometimes, you know, sometimes life is so shitty that you just want to be-“

“Unkind,” Fenris finished for him. Anders just nodded and brushed back a single strand of hair that had escaped his miserable try of a proper hairdo. For a moment, they stood there in silence and looked at each other. There was something hanging in the air, so thick that Fenris could have reached out and grasped it if he had wanted to. He did not know if he wanted to. Anders was an attractive man, even though his face was a little peculiar and even though he sometimes looked too tired to be even alive. It had been a long time since Fenris had thought about the attractiveness of a living being in reachable size in a matter of personal liking instead of an abstract way of being. Fenris had found Hawke incredibly attractive – and he still did, though the thought that Hawke was unreachable was not heart-wrenching anymore. He could live with it because he had made his peace with it – and maybe also because his liking probably had shifted a little. His liking had probably shifted into this kitchen, into naked toes tapping against the kitchen tiles, into a pan that hissed with liquid dough when Anders turned around to pour it into the pan, into a nose that was little too long in a face that should not have been attractive but was so anyways, into a tiny bathroom closet full of pills that were taken without ever missing a single one because their owner wanted to be the best person he could be. Maybe the fact that he still was not a saint was not that important anyways.

There was a single moment between two heartbeats, a single moment where Fenris’ head was blank and everything was silent, noise merely a rumor. Then he suddenly was spinning Anders around, hands grabbing his worn-out shirt and pulling him downwards enough so that he could meet him standing on his tiptoes, blood rushing in his own ears like thunder when he smashed their lips together in a pitiful attempt of a kiss. He could not remember that he had ever been kissed before; Danarius never had because he had not been worthy in his eyes, and after him there had been nobody else. Anders, however, Anders melted in surprise, perhaps even longing, and Fenris allowed himself to believe that maybe Anders did not even mind his inexperience so much. It took a while before he could feel Anders’ hands on his hips to draw him closer, long enough that the breath he had held came back to him in a rush when he finally did, a rush that left him almost dizzy. There was nothing unpleasant about the kiss, nothing at all, and maybe that was what frightened Fenris enough for it to form a lump in his throat.

When Anders gently pried them apart, he let him.

There were tears in Anders’ amber eyes, just very small ones at the verge of forming, but Fenris could see their potential as bright as day. He did not understand, not really, and the anxiousness made him restless, causing him to shift from one foot to the other.

“I’m not really good,” he said and frowned when Anders’ face mellowed in the cold light of morning, all of his hard lines suddenly so soft that he looked like an entirely different person. And still, Fenris did not understand, and he cursed himself for his inability, for everything he did not know and could not do. 

“You are lovely,” Anders said, leaving it at that and causing Fenris to wonder whether it was meant as an assurance or a statement. There was another moment of silence where Anders busied himself with the pancakes, staking one after the other into a messy heap on a plate. Fenris looked at him and at the shoulder blades that poked through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. He wanted to curve his hands around them, feel their sharp edges bite into his skin. He did not move.

“Anders,” he said and found that something had changed and the shift had taken ahold not only of the way Anders’ name fit into his mouth. He also found that the change echoed in Anders’ body, goosebumps slowly forming against the elegant, straight line of his lower arm as he handed Fenris a plate, eyes full of sadness and wishful thinking.

“You are lovely,” Anders repeated and put a fork next to the stack of pancakes with a carefulness that seemed displaced, yet utterly fitting. “And that is why I cannot do that.”

“What?” Fenris demanded and felt his pulse thicken, felt his heart trying to rip a hole into the cage of bones that was holding his inner organs in place. Once, Danarius had cuffed him to a chair and taken his time to carefully pluck out the nail of his little finger, the one on his left hand. He had taken his time, watched every twitch of muscle the pain caused in Fenris’ body, and afterwards he had fucked him on the carpet while Fenris had sobbed into his shoulder because that was what had Danarius delighted the most, that was why Danarius had loved him: being able to give him everything he wanted and even more beyond that. He could feel echoes of that pain and humiliation now, only that Anders did not seem to be delighted by it, but maybe that was just another form of cruelty.

“I don't want to drag you into all of this,” Anders answered and Fenris realized that he wanted to punch him for sound so calm, so barely collected. “So I cannot kiss you again.”


	17. Hawke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late chapter, but here you go! :)

“I think I fucked up badly,” Anders said.

“Uh-huh,” replied Hawke, sitting up in his bed and pressing his phone against his right ear. Sleep was still hovering around the edges of his mind, but he tried his best to shake it off and yawned heavily. It was not the first time Anders had called him in the ungodliest hours of day and Hawke knew that Anders had nobody else to turn to when his mind was too much for him after Karl had died. “Wanna tell me how exactly you fucked up?”

For a moment, there was nothing but Anders’ soft breathing in the line. Hawke yawned again and stretched a little, holding the phone in one hand. He was silently debating with himself whether to get a cup of coffee or not when Anders finally said, “Fenris kissed me.”

“Oh,” Hawke said, so stunned that he entirely forgot about coffee. “You know, for a moment I thought you were saying that Fenris had kissed you.”

“I did.”

“Oh,” Hawke echoed and rubbed at the back of his neck, at a loss of words. There was nothing he could think of to say to that. It was a revelation he had not seen coming at all. Of course there had been teasing – how could there not have been teasing with those two? But he had thought nothing of it and now regretted doing so deeply. “Alright, then. Did he kiss you so badly that you punched him right in the face or something?”

“Worse,” Anders said and now sounded utterly devastated. “I liked it. And…”

“And?”

“And I kissed him back.” Hawke could hear Anders’ sharp inhale, could picture him exactly in that very moment: How he would sit on his couch, clothes rumpled, running one hand through his already messy hair, his eyes dry yet, but the hand holding the phone trembling ever so slightly. Hawke pitied him at that very moment and his heart was full of affection for this lonely, sad man trying to hold himself together. It caused him to clutch his own phone tighter as if he had been able to cling onto Anders that way. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Anders-“

“It’s just – I like him very much, Hawke,” Anders said with a helpless laughter full of honesty before Hawke could utter a single additional word, “And I kissed back because I wanted to. I wanted him – I still do. I never would have thought that he may want me too, the same way I want him. But I shouldn’t have done that. It was so…irresponsible, I don’t…I don’t do that sort of thing.”

“But you want to,” Hawke said before Anders had the chance to delve even deeper into misery, “And you deserve to be happy, damn it. Do you think Karl would want to see you alone forever?”

“I killed him.”

“That’s what you’ve told yourself for years now, and at no point whatsoever that belief has been true. It was an accident.”

“I was angry, I lashed out, ran away-“

“And he followed you because he loved you. It’s not your fault that he didn’t see the truck. You didn’t place that truck there. You didn’t tell him to follow you out of the house and across the street. He did it out of love and concern, and it had nothing to do whatsoever with your bipolarity. Stop blaming yourself over and over and stop telling yourself that it was. Other people get angry too, Anders, and you deserve closeness to other people. Why do you think that Karl married you?”

There was silence at the other end of the phone and then a quiet laughter that sounded like a sob. “He used to tell me how special I was because I cared so much, that he loved me – loved me for my creativity, that he – what if he thinks that I betrayed him?”

“Anders,” Hawke said as gently as he could, utterly careful with every word he spoke, “Karl has been dead for years now. He won’t think that.”

There was another long silence, in which Hawke rubbed his face and silently prayed that he was not fucking this up. He was almost relieved when Anders spoke again. “Do you think that Fenris really likes me?”

“I don’t think he would have kissed you if he didn’t. He’s not the type of guy who is overly fond of physical affection.”

“He hates doctors.”

“But apparently he doesn’t hate you. I’d think that’s a pretty cool thing, right?”

“It is,” Anders quietly agrees and Hawke can practically hear him thinking, “But I don’t think he is aware of what he – would have to deal with, in the end.”

“Anders, he’s helped you through a major depressive phase without seriously complaining even once. Don’t take me wrong, but I think he has already seen some parts of the worst you can be.”

“I shouldn’t drag him into this mess.”

“But if he wants to be in that mess, it is not your place to take that choice from him. The only thing that’s keeping you from giving that thing between you two a chance are your constant self-doubts, not the fact that you’re not attracted to him, and you know that I love you like my own flesh and blood, you know I would walk for you through fire and back – but it’s late and I just-“ Hawke forced himself to take a deep breath, grateful for the fact that Anders apparently was too stunned or taken aback by his outburst to think of something to say, so Hawke used the chance and launched right back in. “I just think you deserve this, Anders, I think you really do. Fenris is great. He has his own issues, but, you know, you could be good for each other.”

“I…” There was clear hesitation in Anders’ voice now, but then he just sighed deeply. “I told him that I didn’t want to kiss him again because I didn’t want to drag him into my mess and he just looked at me and stormed out without another word. Even if there was a chance at some point, there surely isn’t one anymore by now. I fucked up in more than one way.”

Hawke decided that sometimes people had to figure out their shit all by themselves and sometimes they needed some help. This was very much a situation that required the latter. “Alright, Anders. Stay calm and try to sleep. We’ll have some tea tomorrow and then we’ll try to figure this one out, okay?”

“Alright,” Anders agreed and sighed once more. “Thank you for listening, Hawke. You’re a really great friend, you know that?”

“I try my best,” Hawke answered, smiled and hung up before he got out of bed and wrestled himself into a shirt, jeans and boots. He had a visit to make despite the late hour – but then again something told him that Fenris probably would not be asleep anyways.


	18. Fenris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh,this took me ages. Thank you so much for all your support, it really means a lot to me <3 As you will probably see, this is slowly coming to an end. I guess it's onw or two more chapter(s) and then we're done!  
> As always, enjoy :)

As soon as Fenris was at home, he decided to get utterly drunk. 

It was for that reason that he went down into the wine cellar that did not even belong to him, gathered three or four bottles of wine into his arms and went upstairs again to hole himself up in the shabby room he called his bedroom. Flopping down on his bed, he opened the first bottle and took a long swig out of it, deciding to drink until he felt a little better. Since he did not feel better at all after half of the bottle, he emptied the entire bottle and opened the second one right away. The wine settled on his empty stomach like a warm, tingling blanket that was able to fuzz out the sharp edges of reality a little bit. 

If he was honest with himself, he probably should not have kissed Anders. Even now he was not quite sure what had driven him to do so – only that it had felt like the right thing to do in that very moment, that he had wanted to kiss Anders more than he had ever wanted to kiss someone before. It had been such a strange notion, and it probably was even stranger that he had liked it so much, that he, despite Anders’ rejection, wanted to do it again and was still thinking about it. It was an entirely stupid reaction, one he could not help but hate himself for, and a quite justified reason to empty the second bottle. This time, Fenris at least went at a slower pace than with the first. 

He should have never spent more time with Anders than was necessary; that at least seemed quite clear to him and the realization filled him with more bitterness than he would have expected. There he was, making a shot at getting closer to someone, only to be rejected like the distasteful creature he was, the one purely created for aesthetic pleasure and nothing more, a creature of manufacture and not nature. Perhaps it was in his blood to be toyed with only to be pushed away whenever he came too close. Perhaps it was true that some people simply were not meant to be with someone else. 

And truly, what even had Fenris expected from someone like Anders, someone who was not able to think clearly, to experience life like others? But wasn’t Fenris the same? Wasn’t he, like Anders, unable to live life just like others did, joyful and without a second thought, without the need to control himself and his surroundings at every minute? It was a dangerous thought, one that caused him to empty the second bottle with one big swallow. The wine did not clean his insides, but it was exquisite enough to coat his tongue for several moments after it was gone and he had drunk enough already to feel it spread through his blood, lighting it on fire. 

It was enough to make him think of Danarius, something he allowed himself only very rarely for the reason that it made him anxious and uneasy where he tried to be brave and steady. This probably was not the best thing to do, it rarely was, but he could not help himself. In a sick and twisted way, Danarius had been the closest thing to a relationship he had ever had, no matter whether it had been healthy or not. Would treat Anders him the way Danarius would: tender one moment, unbearably cruel the next? But no, despite all his flaws Anders had never pretended to be something he was not, or to not be something he was, and Fenris had valued that. 

Even if he allowed himself to believe that Anders truly did not drag him into the mess he was - and a mess he was, Fenris had seen him in a depression and it had not been nice –, it did not make the nasty feeling of not being enough go away. It had been him who had watched after the man while he had tried to pick himself up again; it had been him who had dragged him out of the house and into the world in hopes of making it better and it had been him who had made sure that Anders ate and slept regularly. As far as he knew, he had done everything right – and it was not as if Anders had not been interested in him, either: he had felt it in the way they had kissed, the hungry clenches of Anders’ bony hands in his jacket, the way he had leaned into him to get even closer. Fenris was no stranger to desire, not to that of others and despite all things not to his own as well. 

At this point, he decided to open the third bottle.

He had already worked his way through half of it when a loud noise from downstairs caused him to jump up from where he was slouched against the thin mattress of his bed. With a frown he tried to sort the sound into the right category before he finally realized that it had to be someone knocking against his door with full force. With a groan he got up from the bed and stumbled downstairs, still clutching the bottle in one hand as he yanked his door open and found himself eye to eye with Hawke’s massive chest.

“I won’t help you with one of your breakneck actions tonight, Hawke,” he said. It was possible that his voice was a little slurry, but he could not say for sure. Hawke took one long look at him, which he tried to meet with a hard stare; Hawke only sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose and gently pushed him back inside before entering the house himself and closing the door.

“It’s four in the morning and you’re drinking,” Hawke said and carefully maneuvered him back upstairs, ignoring Fenris’ protest at being pushed around like that. “If I didn’t talk to Anders half an hour ago, I would ask you what’s wrong now, but unfortunately – or fortunately, I guess that depends on how you see it – I know exactly what’s going on with you.”

Fenris stopped at the last step and looked up at Hawke with narrowed eyes. “You talked to Anders?”

“I did,” Hawke confirmed and gently pushed him into his bedroom before he dropped his coat and stretched in his hoodie and jeans with a deep sigh. “He woke me up only to cry all over the phone how much he messed up.”

“He did?” Fenris found that it was a good idea to simply drop down at the rug in front of the fireplace he never used and stay there; the room was spinning too much to remain standing. He took another sip from the bottle, then gloomily stared at it. “What did he say?”

“That you kissed him,” Hawke replied and nodded at him when Fenris’ head jerked upwards at that. “Yeah. And he told me that he liked it and that he likes you too, very much so.”

“Liar,” Fenris found himself spitting out, suddenly furious beyond any reasonable amount. He fisted his free hand into the rug until he could feel the old fabric gave way underneath his strong grip, leaving strings of red between his fingers. “He stopped me from kissing him and tried to get rid of me with stupid – with stupid stuff. Stupid excuses.”

“I don’t think that what he told you were excuses,” Hawke said after a moment and finally sat down next to him with a heavy sigh, one of his hands full of silver rings, all of them undoubtedly gifts from Isabela, coming to rest on Fenris’ knee. “I think he was very honest with you. You see – when dealing with Anders you have to understand that despite all of his apparent confidence, he has very low self-esteem and he is very, very scared to hurt someone. It’s been quite a while since he has been interested in someone in a sexual way and he hasn’t been interested in someone in a relationship way since Karl’s death. You do like him, right?”

“Of course I do,” Fenris scoffed, shoving Hawke’s hand away from his knee and pulling it against his chest together with the second one. “I wouldn’t have kissed him otherwise. I shouldn’t have kissed him at all. It was a stupid idea.”

“Probably,” Hawke agreed and shrugged when Fenris glared at him. “But I don’t think so, to be honest. You wanted to kiss him and so you did. That’s perfectly alright, since it harmed nobody. You can’t help having the feelings you have, Fenris. It’s a normal thing. And if you have feelings for Anders, that’s alright too – and he has feelings for you, but he is telling himself that it’s not okay to have them, which is just stupid.”

“But why? Why does he think that?”

“Several reasons,” said Hawke, “One of them probably is that he is worried for you, since he is a human and you’re an elf – and you’ve seen how people react at Isabela and Merrill; elves in mixed couples are always heavily insulted and even though he didn’t tell me, I believe that he’s thinking about that. Don’t scoff! That’s how he is. Another thing he’s worried about is his bipolarity, but that’s something you know already. He’ll always be worried about that, Fenris; that’s just how it is. People have to constantly assure him that it’s alright and even then he’ll probably never believe them. And he’s especially worried about it when it comes to relationships since he believes that he is at fault for Karl’s death.”

“He said he couldn’t save him,” Fenris remembered and looked up at Hawke with expectant eyes.

Hawke shrugged again. “Well, I guess you could see it that way. They had an argument, Anders ran out of the house and across the street, Karl followed him and was hit by a car. Unfortunately Anders was in a manic phase back then and now he thinks that the accident was entirely his fault – which it isn’t, of course, but it’s very hard to get into someone’s head and heal such a big wound. He never really got over it. Probably never really will, I think. But, I think, what’s important is that Anders is someone who is capable of a lot of love – and he wants to love, he does, but he is afraid.” Hawke took a deep breath and looked at him steadily. “Someone has to be brave, Fenris, and in this case it certainly won’t be Anders. Do you want him?”

“I – I think so,” Fenris replied very slowly, before he looked down at his naked feet. Seldom had he felt at such a loss for words like he did at that very moment, the steady, quick thrum of his heartbeat filling his ears. “But I don’t know if I can be good for him – or for anyone – either. I have never been with someone because of my own will before. I don’t know…”

“One never knows what can happen if one decides to open oneself to another person,” Hawke said and for a moment he looked more wistful than he needed to, but then he just sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I know it’s scary, but you can only know if it’s gonna be something good by trying. And Anders won’t say anything, even though he wants to. I don’t want to tell you what to do, Fenris, in the end it’s your decision and yours alone. But you deserve a little happiness too, and I think that Anders could make you very happy if you let him – and if you allow him to have you. Just…think about it, that’s all.”


	19. Anders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, my darlings, the last part of this fanfic. Thank you all so much for your support! I hope you had fun reading this. :)

It had been a while since the last time Anders had been so heartbroken. There was a reason why he had never dated much after Karl’s death, busying himself with work instead, with attempting to help those in need, especially the elven community. He had always been drawn to the outcasts, probably because he was one himself – and similar souls searched for each other. After all, nobody knew pain who had not experienced it. He had been quite fortunate, all things considered, blessed with people who saw through his mental struggles and appealed to his stubbornness to force his way through life. At this point, Anders considered himself an expert in falling down and getting up again.

It did not make the fall any easier.

It had taken him a while to realize how much he really liked Fenris. The elf was snappish, prickling and could be very unpleasant if he wanted to be, but if Anders was honest with himself, he could not really blame him for that. The world was an ugly place and everyone dealt with it differently. Considering all the things Fenris presumably had been through, things he mostly had only hinted at except for, probably, the one evening where they had all played cards at Anders’ place, he was still admirably sane. Maybe it was due to the fact that Fenris was honest and brave, despite the things he sometimes said and did and had seen during his life. In that, he was much different from Anders – he had never been neither honest nor brave, particularly not the latter one, contrary to what Karl had believed. Sweet, joyful Karl, who had taken such good care of him and who had, somehow, only ever believed the best of him – Anders had loved him as much as he was able to love someone. Fenris was not Karl, but nobody expected that from him in the first place. Anders still wanted him, longed for understanding him better, longed for having more of Fenris for himself.

The thing was that Anders was not particularly good at keeping things. He tended to lose them, mostly due to his own fault, so he had learned the hard way that sometimes it was better not to reach for certain things. It was out of question that this was a painful, usually lonely way to live, but it was fair towards other and spared him from even greater pain that he would surely feel if he decided to get things for himself. It did not spare him, however, from the sadness of longing, the same sadness that had him curled up on his couch that evening, all of his cats nestled tightly against him, as if sensing his mood. 

The hard way sometimes was not very appealing. He had mostly fond memories of his marriage, which had been a rather happy one all things considered, if one ignored the way it ended. Anders also knew that he could commit himself to someone else, that he technically was able to give a lot for someone else – but there was always the risk of losing himself in doing too much, turning into a paranoid, jealous partner who practically sat on his lover, unable to let go. The possibility had haunted and scared him throughout his marriage and it continued to haunt and scare him when it came to possible new relationships. He never considered himself a courageous man, and he certainly was not courageous enough to face these possibilities. Living with himself was usually hard enough as it was; beating himself up over even more things that could go wrong was nothing more than tiring.

And yet, Anders could not help but think while he stroked Ser Pounce-a-lot’s soft fur, the old cat gently purring into his ear, he found himself wishing, wondering whether it was worth it or not. In a way he already knew the answer to that, but accepting it was an entirely different matter. Beating himself up over it probably did not lead to anything, but being the person Anders was, he could not help himself; it was better than swallowing more pills to dampen his emotions even further.

A knock on the door caused him to almost crush Lady Give-me-meow under his own weight, which she thanked him by viciously scratching his arm with an utterly indignant mewl. A glance on his watch told him that it was already 6 PM; since he had kept the clinic closed for today to get on his feet again, he could explain who might need something from him. Perhaps it was Hawke coming to check on him. What a good friend Hawke was – Anders would forever be indebted to him by honor and heart, and he did not mind in the least. 

The thought of Hawke worrying about him caused him to get up from the couch with a groan, stretching slightly before he shuffled to the door. He did not think about how he looked when he opened the door: unshaved, hair loose and unkempt, an old t-shirt and baggy jeans thrown over his body. 

These things, however, immediately came to his mind when he discovered who stood in front of him. 

It was Fenris. He had cleaned up nicely on top of that, wearing clean pants and a seemingly new shirt Anders had never seen before. His ears were slightly drooped and he awkwardly shuffled his naked feet, clearing his throat. He looked even more attractive than usual and caused Anders to involuntarily flush with shame over his own shaggy appearance – even though it probably was not only due to shame; it was surprise as well, along with something unspeakably dangerous that caused his heart to beat even faster. 

“I came,” Fenris said quite stiffly and awkwardly without looking directly at him, “to – talk to you. Whether you want to or not, in fact.”

“How nice of you to leave me a choice in that matter,” Anders replied without thinking twice, immediately biting his tongue and mentally cursing himself in the process. Breathing in deeply, he tried to shove back all unwelcome thoughts and coughed slightly before he said, “Come in, I guess.”

Fenris was silent when he followed him inside and did not even complain about the cats occupying the couch. He did not make an attempt at sitting down, but came to a stop in the middle of the room instead, looking around as if he had never been there before. Unsure of how to behave, Anders awkwardly hovered next to him for almost a full minute before he decided to sit down on the couch again, nervously placing his hands against his knees.

“Well?” he probed, trying to sound braver than he felt, trying to get it over with as quickly as possible. What was Fenris here for? What could he possibly want to say? Anders was quite sure that it could not be anything positive; after all, he had pushed him away, as kindly as possible, yet pushing him away all the same. The thought that Fenris surely hated him even more than ever before was sickening, yet it seemed unavoidable.

“When I was – when I met Danarius, after he took me in… I thought I was in love with him,” Fenris said very quietly. It was something Anders had never expected; looking up, he found Fenris staring at the framed photo of him and Karl on their wedding day. “I did everything for him. I let him cut me open, bleed me out, even-“ The words seemed to get stuck in his throat for a moment and Anders watched him struggle with them before he continued, “When he was done with his – project, when he wanted to move on to other – projects and had no need for me anymore, he forced me away from himself without a second thought.”

“Fenris-“

“He was a physician, like you,” Fenris said very quietly, his green eyes now piercing into Anders’, capturing him. “He knew where to cut so that I wouldn’t die right away. And he was – mentally unstable, even though he knew how to play his part. I don’t think you will ever understand what a vile man he was – and that I, in some way, will always be chained to him-“

“No, you will not,” Anders snapped, suddenly furious enough to stand up. “You will leave him behind you for sure. Maybe not today, but maybe tomorrow, or maybe after that – you will grow, and you will become your own person and shape your own life, and you will be happy because you deserve to be happy. After all this pain…you deserve it.”

“This is funny,” Fenris said after a long pause, his eyes very large and green, “coming from a man who refuses himself happiness so thoroughly.”

Anders sat back down, stunned into silence.

“That’s right,” Fenris continued, with a voice much stronger than before. “You shut me out of your life after I decided to go after something, no, someone I wanted for the first time in a very long time – and you still think it was for my own good, but it wasn’t. Hawke said it’s because you don’t want to hurt other people, but I think it’s probably because you’re afraid and in that fear you’re really, utterly selfish.” Taking a deep breath, he sat down next to Anders, close enough that their knees could have touched, but did not. “I don’t know what to expect. You infuriate me. All of this makes no sense. I don’t even know if I like you differently than other people. But I look at you and I think that you are…kind. And I have not met many kind people. I am pretty sure that I want more of it.”

“You do?” Anders was unable to hold back the question, turning his head to look at the elf with hope slowly, but strongly blooming in his chest. It was ridiculous, and perhaps another sign for his weakness since he was so tempted to give in. He remembered their kiss, the richness of it, and felt his mouth go dry. “I am sick-“

“You’re managing just fine,” Fenris interrupted him and then, drily, added, “I know what to do when you get difficult and I’m not perfect myself. I don’t even really know what I’m doing right now, just that I want to do it – and that I want you. And I think – I think I can try to get things for myself, and so can you. Do you – do you want me too?”

There was no point in denying and no way he could react to this utter honesty with a lie, so there was only one possible answer he could give. “I do,” he answered very quietly and despite the guilt he felt and probably never would get rid of, he also immediately felt strangely liberated as the tightness around his chest loosened. 

Fenris was not one to smile broadly, but the corners of his lips visibly turned upwards. When he took Anders’ hand, his grip was sure and steady. “Then we shall manage,” he said.

Anders looked at their hands and found that for the first time in a long while, he was willing to believe that too.


End file.
